


When All is Lost

by M_E_Lover, oddgit



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Finch whump, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Torture, attempted suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 14:49:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 36,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9496835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_E_Lover/pseuds/M_E_Lover, https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddgit/pseuds/oddgit
Summary: Finch is captured and tortured by Samaritan, will the rest of the team be able to find him and save him before it's too late? If they do, will the aftermath be too much for them to overcome?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [M_E_Lover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_E_Lover/gifts).



> So I had planned this out as a short little Finch Whump Christmas gift for M_E_Lover, but it's turned into this huge brutal Finch whump! With a tad bit of Reese whump tossed in here and there. So I hope you all enjoy! 
> 
> Thanks to M_E_Lover for helping me write it and all the beta work, also all the encouragement! All mistakes are my own! 
> 
> Comments and Feedback are appreciated! :)

Harold woke up dazed to an annoying beeping sound. It didn’t take him long to realize that the beeping was a heart monitor. And, it didn’t take him long to remember that the last thing he could actually recall was he and John running down an alleyway away from Samaritan ops, and then John was shot in the back, leaving Harold utterly defenseless and terrified for his partner.

The beeping accelerated and then he understood that he was the one hooked up to the heart monitor.

He tried to look around but his head was strapped down firmly to some sort of table, along with his chest, arms, and legs. He struggled at first, disoriented. The bonds didn't budge.  A sharp pain shot up his neck as he tried to move, he closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing to help minimize the painful stabbing sensation.

When he closed his eyes all he could see was John getting shot over and over again in his mind, replaying in a horrific loop. Then the monitor beeping got progressively faster again. He didn’t know for sure if John was dead or alive. He couldn’t be dead. Samaritan can’t win. The numbers… what will happen to the numbers?

Then Harold heard a number of people walk into the room and then the all too familiar voice of John Greer start speaking to him, “Well now, Mr. Finch I see you’ve joined us again, very good.”

Harold didn’t say anything. He remained quiet and tried to control the panic that was rising in his chest.

“Hmm, the silent treatment I see. Now, Mr. Finch, I thought you were smarter than that.” Greer moved into Harold’s line of vision and smiled. “No matter, it’s over… Samaritan has come out victorious. Well… just as soon as you give us the location to your precious Machine I should say.” Greer started to walk away, “And your other operatives’ location as well. Ms. Groves and Ms. Shaw that is… Because well… I’m afraid that your Mr. Reese will no longer be an issue.”

Harold’s heart rate quickened rapidly and his eyes narrowed.

“Yes… I truly am sorry Mr. Finch. I will tell you that we tried very hard to save Mister Reese but we were not successful, we lost him in surgery. You have my condolences, sir.” Harold clenched his eyes shut and tried to hold back the tears that were forming in them.

“Shame really… Mr. Reese could have been a valuable asset to Samaritan.”

Harold finally spoke, “You would never have turned him. He would've died before he helped you.”

“Well… I suppose we’re ahead of the game then aren’t we Mr. Finch.” Greer smiled and patted Harold on the shoulder. “Now, we must get started… we have so much to discuss.”

Harold didn't reply, he looked up at the ceiling… as if he had a choice with the metal strap that held his head in position to look anywhere else.

Harold noticed out of the corner of his eye Greer signaling to someone to come over… He saw a man dressed in green scrubs with a syringe in his hand. “Now… Mr. Finch, we can do this the easy way or the hard way…” Greer smiled again and Harold very much wanted to punch him in the mouth, “You can tell me the information I want to know now… or I can make it so you wish you were in the afterlife with your dear friend Mr. Reese.”

Harold answered with steel in his voice, “I will never tell you anything about my friends or the machine… so you might as well kill me now.”

“Very well then,” Greer said and motioned for the doctor the inject Harold with the needle.

As the doctor stuck the needle into Harold’s arm and depressed the plunger, Greer explained,

“That was a minor sedative, Mr. Finch… You’ll feel a bit sleepy… but I promise you that you’ll be wide awake soon enough.”

The doctor lowered the head of the bed down so that it laid flat and even and Harold was starting to lose his grip on consciousness… he felt even more vulnerable than he had before. On display like an animal in a zoo.

The doctor released the cuff that was holding Harold’s injured leg into place and began lifting it in the air. Harold heard Greer say something like, “Last chance Mr. Finch.” But he couldn’t respond. Something in his head was telling him to say something, but he couldn’t move his mouth.

The doctor started to slowly push Harold’s leg towards his chest… a burning pressure erupted in Harold’s hip and spine, and as the man continued, he heard first and then immediately felt a pop… and his throat went raw from the screaming he couldn’t prevent, the pain was torturous.

#

Shaw and Root had gotten a call from Reese that he and Finch needed help and where their location was. When they got to the alleyway they noticed the amount of blood and bullet casings on the ground… with neither John nor Harold anywhere to be found… the outlook wasn’t good.

“Give me the location of Admin and Primary asset.” Root ordered. “Primary asset and Admin location… now!” She ordered again after a minute of silence.

“Did she tell you?” Shaw asked as she walked around the alleyway, searching for any signs of their friends.

“No… she hasn’t talked to me in weeks… I just thought I’d give it a try.” She stated sadly.

“Well, what are we supposed to do now…?” Shaw sighed and knelt down in front of the puddle of blood. “This doesn’t look good Root…”

Suddenly, Shaw heard a noise and turned around with her gun raised.

“Shaw…” a familiar throaty whisper called.

Shaw kept moving forward and shined a flashlight into one of the crooks in the alley, she saw Reese slumped over… breathing heavily with his eyes closed. “Root! It’s Reese, he’s over here!” She yelled.

Root ran over to them and shined her flashlight on him as well. “Where’s Harold?!”

“They took… him. Couldn’t… couldn’t… stop them.” He breathed out.

“Who? Samaritan?” Root prodded.

All John could do was nod his head.

Root choked out a cry, “Why didn’t you save him?!”

“Root… stop.” Shaw lifted Reese up and rested his head on her shoulder, revealing the large bullet hole in his back and the blood oozing from it. “We have to get him to the safe house right now! The bullet is still in there.”

John started to stir, “No… no… go find Harold.” He groaned against Shaw’s shoulder.

“Reese shut up.” Shaw barked. “Root help me get him up.”

Root moved closer to them and slid her arm around John’s back, “Let’s go, big guy, we get you patched up then we find Harold.”

#

Harold woke up in the same room that he was in before, he tried to move only to have a painful jolt run up his spine indicating that he was still strapped to the table. His hip ached intensely and it gave him an agonizing reminder of what it felt like before he had the screws and plates inserted into his frame.

Harold saw Greer’s furrowed face lean into his line of vision again. “Ah, Mr. Finch…? Are you with us?”

Finch stared at Greer but didn’t say anything…

“I can assure you, physical pain is not the only thing that we have in store for you, so your being uncooperative is of no concern.”

The same doctor came over and took Harold’s glasses from his face. He slid on what had looked like some sort of visor and latched it around the back of Harold’s head.

“You see… the brain is a very interesting organ. Stick a needle here…” Harold felt a sharp pinch at the base of his skull, “and we can stimulate certain parts of your brain…”

Harold felt his heart racing in his chest, and panic started to settle in like before… He fisted his hands as tight as he could and his fingernails dug into the palms of his hands. He felt as if he was burning up, but his limbs felt cold.

“It’s simple Mr. Finch… tell me what I want to know and all of this can stop…”

“Go to hell.” Finch spat indignantly.

“I was almost hoping you’d say that,” Greer smirked and then the whole world went black.

#

Harold awoke to a world of vibrant beauty all around him. The warm sun shone down on him as he lay comfortably on a large quilted blanket.  He looked around and found that he was awash in a glorious sea of natural splendor. The colors were magnificently rich and vivid, the air was suffused with the fragrant smell of wildflowers and blossoming fauna and the vast array of deep yellow and green that colored the trees was magnificent. He felt absolutely contented and wonderfully relaxed and then suddenly he heard Grace giggling pleasantly from somewhere behind the wall of flowers. He sat up to look for her.  He saw motion behind him and stood up to look. The vision of beauty that swam naked in the pristinely clear lake took his breath away.

“Are you coming in or not?” She teased lightly. He watched her... mesmerized for a moment then answered. “Yes, I’ll just be a moment.”  He didn’t want to take his eyes away from her. He began to undress. She watched him bemused as she floated on her back in the clear water revealing her perfect body to him. His heart was filled with love and adoration at the lovely sight of her.

“Are you going to take all day?” She asked again amused by his attention.

“No, I’m just enjoying the view.” He replied teasingly and smiled at her. "You're a wondrous and sublime sight my love."

She laughed again warmly and he finished undressing then slipped into the water with her. He swam over and took her into his arms in a tender embrace. He kissed her gently then pulled back to look at the beauty of her and his eyes began to glisten.

“What’s wrong?” She asked seeing his sudden expression of melancholy.

“Nothing's wrong... that’s why I’m confused.” He answered in bewilderment. Something seemed off and he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

“I don’t understand Harold...” She replied.

“Grace what day is it?” He asked as he tried desperately to understand what was different.

“It’s Sunday silly.” She answered.”

“No, what’s the date, I mean.” He asked again.

She looked at him and he saw concern in her gorgeous green eyes.

“It’s the Eleventh of July Harold.” She answered.

“What year?” He asked as she pulled away from him smiling.

“You're teasing me right?” She asked again, giggling as she swam away from him.

“Grace. I’m not teasing you, what year is it?” He asked again fervently, he had to know why nothing seemed quite right, shouldn’t he be injured or something?” he thought vaguely. He chastised himself for thinking about it. Why couldn’t he just accept the here and now? He swam after her and said, “Yes, you’re right I am teasing you.” He caught up to her on the shoreline. She turned to him and smiled. He was so terribly happy in the moment he thought he would burst with contentment.

Then suddenly, without warning, “Harold... why did you kill your best friend?” She asked calmly.

Harold was shocked by her frankness and couldn't quite remember anything. He didn’t know what to say.

She waited patiently for his reply. He was confused again.

“What year is it Grace?” He asked again hesitantly.

She smiled wickedly and asked him again, point blank. “Why did you kill your best friend Harold?”

“I…I don’t understand.” He answered, dread overwhelming him now.

Oh, I see why you’re confused.” She stated. “You don’t know which friend I’m referring to.” She grinned again vindictively.

“Well then, I will tell you, Harold. The year is 2016 and you have let both of your best friends die on your behalf.” She stated coldly.

“No, I… I didn’t do anything.” He replied stammering.

Thar’s my point, Harold.” She said and then reached out and pulled him close to her. “You let them sacrifice themselves for you.” then she kissed him roughly and violently. He pulled away from her, tasting blood in his mouth.

She laughed and said. “My poor sweet Harold, now you have blood on more than just your hands... look over there.” Grace pointed behind him and he was suddenly transferred to another time and space. He was standing around the line that had formed for the ferry boarding. He looked across the people and made eye contact with Nathan. They smiled at each other and just as Nathan had raised his hand to wave at Harold he remembered what was happening, he had a sense of déjà vu and just as he was about to yell at Nathan to get down, the explosion knocked him backwards and out cold. When he opened his eyes again he was standing in the alleyway watching John and Lambert fighting and he could do nothing but stand and watch as Lambert put two shots into John's chest and John’s white dress shirt turned a hideous crimson red.

He began to panic and felt his stomach churn and roil as he felt himself being pulled through time and space. He saw flashes of searing light that branded the gory images of the death and destruction that his partners had gone through. Then his vision went to black and he felt his mind being tugged at insistently.

#

Shaw and Root had managed to get Reese back to the safe house that had been equipped with an operating wing in it. Finch had assembled it himself when he and Reese started working together and it contained everything they would ever need.

Shaw had patched up Reese in it before, but the thought of Harold captured by Samaritan had never loomed in her mind before like it had tonight.

Reese had passed out in the car on the way over so Root and Shaw practically carried him up the stairs and into the house.

“Get him on the table. Cut his shirt off and help get him on his stomach… put those two wedge things that look like pillows under his stomach.” Shaw instructed Root.

Root did exactly that while Shaw started gathering all the supplies they needed and then scrubbed her hands. Root went over to the sink and cleaned her hands as well in case Shaw needed her help.

“Hopefully it’s not too deep.” Shaw stated as she inserted an IV in Reese’s arm and injected it with a sedative. Reese soon fell into unconsciousness. “Dumbass probably dove in front of Harold…” Shaw quickly stopped talking when she saw Root’s face. “Sorry…”

Root smiled sadly at her and went to put on a pair of latex gloves.

Shaw rubbed betadine over the area where the bullet went in and then she picked up the scalpel. “I’ll just need you to hand me stuff when I ask.” Root nodded. She made a small incision over the bullet hole and blood started to trickle out, “Gauze.” She cleared out her line of vision and quickly saw the piece of shrapnel protruding out from a bundle of nerves. “Damn.” She sighed.

“What?” Root asked.

“It’s right in the middle of a bunch of nerves… if I make the wrong move…” She set the scalpel down and wiped her forehead with her arm.

“Sameen, just take a breath… you can do this… The big lug will be fine and then we can go get Harry back.” Root’s voice ached with desperation.

Shaw smiled and took a deep breath in and out. She grabbed the forceps and started again…

#

The lights exploded into brightness and Harold was in the operating room once again. He felt the sudden urge to throw up at the knowledge that what he had just seen and experienced was just a simulation. That they could make it feel so…. Real.

“Well, Mr. Finch… did it feel real enough for you?” Greer smirked.

“What…” Was all Finch could breathe out.

“That my dear Mr. Finch was just the beginning.” Greer laughed. The doctor injected Harold with another drug and uncuffed his legs followed by his chest head and arms.

Finch felt like he was paralyzed. He couldn’t move or talk. His limbs were… frozen. “Well go ahead, Mr. Finch… you’re free to go.” Greer chuckled and started to walk out of the room. He turned back to face the doctor, “Take him to the cell. The paralytic won’t wear off for about another hour so he shouldn’t give you any problems… and turn on the TV before you leave.”

The doctor pulled Harold up and lifted him into a wheelchair. Harold was completely helpless. He couldn’t do anything except sit there and stare straight ahead, stunned.

The doctor got Harold into a room and moved him over to a bed in the corner. A large black TV on a table with wheels was sitting in front of the bed… The doctor propped Harold up with pillows so he was facing the TV and turned it on and then left the room.

All Harold could do was look straight ahead at the screen, it was nothing but static until it came on to security camera footage. It didn’t take him long to recognize where the camera was stationed… it was at the site of the ferry bombing and the last thing he remembered from his “simulation.”

He saw himself slowly walking up through the line of people looking around for Nathan and then, as soon as they spotted one another the bomb went off. Harold tried to close his eyes but he couldn’t. And it kept replaying and replaying without pause, the drug forced him to watch his best friend and himself getting blown away repeatedly.

It finally stopped showing the ferry bombing and moved to another scene… Harold was in the triage unit after the bombing and he saw Nathan lying on a gurney next to him being observed by two men

Then they covered Nathan’s face with a sheet. He watched himself struggle to his feet. And then he saw Grace come in searching for him frantically and then finding the book that at one time held the ring that he proposed to her with. And then he watched himself limp away from her forever. 

Harold couldn’t stand it… his eyes started to water and his vision got cloudy and tears ran down his cheeks…


	2. Chapter 2

Reese woke up slowly. He blinked as he opened his eyes and tried to recognize where he was. The last thing he remembered was running away from Samaritan agents with Harold and seeing one of them behind them raise his gun at Harold…

_“Finch!” John yelled._

_Harold turned around to see the agent aiming a gun directly at him. The agent pulled the trigger and Reese lunged in front of Harold. The bullet hit him in the back and he collapsed._

_“Mr. Reese!” Harold gasped as he caught John in his arms._

_“Go… Harold…” John rasped._

_“I’m not leaving you!” Harold said and he fell to the ground with him, John’s weight was too much for him to hold upright…_

_“Get out of here!” John yelled… but it was too late._

_Lambert was right on top of them and aimed his gun at John’s head. Two other agents pulled Harold away violently and shoved him into a black SUV…_

“Harold!” John screamed.

Shaw ran over, “Woah Captain America. Calm down, if you tear those stitches out I’m gonna be pissed.”

“No, I need to get to Harold!” He protested and tried to get up again but as soon as he sat up, he felt the screaming pain in his back and the room started to spin.

“Yeah… I thought so.” Shaw chastised as she helped him lay back down. Reese put his hand over his eyes and let out a long sigh. “So… You gonna fill me in on what happened?” She asked.

“We ran right into a trap.” John murmured and there was a horrible anguish threatening to bury him alive. “They had us surrounded… we got to the alley but one of them got to us… and he took a shot at Harold… I dove in front of him and he wouldn’t leave me.” John smashed his hand down onto the bed. “I told him to go damn it! He should have left me and saved himself!”

Shaw put a hand on his shoulder, “You should have known that wasn’t going to happen. We’ll get him back Reese. Root is working on a lead as we speak.”

#

The drug had worn off and Harold had almost wished it hadn’t. His hip was in so much pain from being manipulated that all he could do was just lay helpless on the mattress that was in the corner of the room. He couldn’t move his leg. They must have popped it out of place, or worse, he thought.

He wanted to sleep… escape the hell that he was in… but every time he closed his eyes, he saw he and Nathan getting blown up, himself walking away from Grace, and John jumping in front of the bullet just two days ago, at least that’s how long he estimated it had been.

He heard the door open and the doctor walked over to him. He closed his eyes and let out a whimper when the doctor moved him roughly into a wheelchair and wheeled him out of the room.

#

_“Harold I know you don’t want to think about it, but if you ever get captured…” John started._

_“Mr. Reese… please… let’s talk about something else.” Finch begged to change the subject. It would bring back too many painful memories from when Root had taken him._

_“Harold no. This is a real possibility. Just… hear me out.” Harold remained quiet and motioned for John to go on. “You don’t need to be stubborn. Fighting back in little ways like not eating is a faster way to get yourself killed.” John sighed. “You need to keep yourself alive because I’ll be coming for you…”_

#

Harold snapped out of his daze and he was in the operating room again. He saw the examination table and his heart started to beat faster in his chest. His mouth felt as if was full of cotton and he felt sweat forming on his forehead.

The doctor lifted him out of the wheelchair and Harold snapped, he knew what was coming. He started flailing his arms and legs around as best as he could and he inadvertently landed an elbow to the doctor’s face, dazing the man for a second.

He tried to take a step only to have his leg buckle beneath him and he cried out in excruciating pain. He managed to get to the door only to feel the cold barrel of a pistol pointed to the back of his head.

“Did you really think you’d be able to escape?” Lambert laughed.

Harold’s breath suddenly came short. He couldn’t breathe. He tried to speak, but could only gasp.

Lambert grabbed him and pulled him over to the table and pushed him down. “Dr. Garrett are you all right?” Lambert asked as he strapped Harold to the table again and hooked him up back up to the heart monitor.

Harold’s chest felt stiff, he was flushed cold and hot and he could only get in small, clipped breaths.

“Yes. He just caught me off guard that’s all.” Dr. Garret came over next to Lambert.

“Good. Now sedate him before he has a heart attack.” Lambert smirked noticing that Harold’s heart rate was dangerously accelerated and his breathing was forced and ragged. “He’s of no use to Samaritan if he’s dead.” He stated coldly.

Dr. Garrett inserted another needle into Harold’s arm and he started to feel tired, his heart rate and breathing slowed and then he slipped back into nothingness.

#

He woke up later to Greer patting him on the cheek, “Wake up Mr. Finch.”

“Please… ju… just kill… me.” Harold whimpered.

“Now Mr. Finch… where would the fun in that be?” Greer laughed, “And if we killed you… well, then I wouldn’t get the information that I need.”

Dr. Garrett moved over next to Finch with a table full of syringes. “Mr. Finch I’m under the understanding that you don’t have any heart problems in your family history. Correct?”

Harold just closed his eyes.

“Now Alzheimer’s on the other hand…” Greer smiled sadistically.

Harold’s eyes snapped open and he looked at Greer,

“Ahh hit a nerve, have I?” Greer went on, “Yes Mr. Finch we know all about your father… but that’s another topic for another… simulation perhaps?” He laughed and took one of the syringes off the table, “I’m sure you’re familiar with this little… tactic…” He flicked the syringe, “We inject you with a barbiturate in one arm to put you to sleep…” He walked over to Harold’s left side, “And then inject an amphetamine in the other arm to well… wake you up I guess is what you could call it.” Greer smirked, “Your dear colleague Ms. Groves was the victim to such a method under the government’s control as you well know I’m sure.”

Harold tried to pull his arm away reflexively… desperate to get it free from the metal cuff’s grasp. He gritted his teeth, shut his eyes. Tried to breathe. He was frightened, he realized, terrified like an animal caught in a trap.

Greer began to laugh, “Mr. Finch… please… there’s absolutely no use in fighting it.” Greer injected Harold with the barbiturate, “We’ll see you in a little while, Mr. Finch.” Greer smiled as Harold’s eyes fluttered shut.

#

John, Shaw, Root, and Bear made their way to the subway. Root got a coded message from the machine shortly after they had stabilized John.

After Reese and Shaw had swept the parameter and made sure the subway location wasn’t blown, they made their way down the steps.

They unlocked the gate and turned on the lights, “No one’s here… looks like Finch is holding out…” Shaw stated.

“Of course he is.” Reese interrupted frustratingly.

Shaw knew he and Finch had a close friendship. Reese had said many times before that Finch saved his life. Gave him a purpose again… Now that Finch was gone… there was no telling what Reese would do. Finch was always the one to keep Reese in line. He pulled him back from the brink when Carter died… if they lost Finch… they’d lose Reese too.

Bear ran over to Harold’s computer chair and whined…

“I know boy… we’ll get him back…” Shaw said as she made her way over to rub the dog’s ears.

John went over to where Root was already typing on the computer and bringing up endless windows. “Have anything yet?” 

Root didn’t answer him and just kept typing. She stopped when she had the video feed from a security camera from a coffee shop across the street from the alley. She hit play…

It showed everything… Harold and John rushing out of a back door only to be caught by one of Samaritan’s agents. They heard gunfire and then saw John slump to the ground in Harold’s arms, pulling him down with him.

John slammed the table with his fist.                   

They see Lambert holding the gun to John’s head and then two men roughly dragging Harold away. His arms were pulled behind his back and secured with a pair of handcuffs.

Shaw winced knowing how bad that the manhandling had to have hurt Harold’s neck and back.

They watched the SUV take off and then they see John lunge and attack Lambert… He knocked him to the ground and grabbed his gun but Lambert got away right before John could turn around…

John collapsed after he walked three steps into the alleyway…

“Is that it…” John started, “This is all the machine sent you?” He asked exasperatingly.

“No… she sent me this too.” Root said as a picture popped up on the screen.

The picture was a man, maybe late 40’s, he had dark brown hair and a beard. “Are you kidding me.” Reese scoffed. “A number.”

“No.” Root sighed, “There’s no way she sent us just a number… he has to be connected somehow.”

Shaw walked over, “Well then let’s find out.”

#

Harold woke up gasping for air. His heart was pounding and it felt like it was about to burst out of his chest. The doctor set the needle that had the amphetamine onto a tray and grabbed another one with a barbiturate.

He’d gotten used to it in a way… He lost count at 10… but he was pretty sure he was on about round 25.

This time was different than all the others, though… his heart usually slowed down by this point… he could usually catch his breath by now… just as he sensed something was different, something was wrong, his eye’s rolled to the back of his head and then he sensed nothing at all.

The heart monitor started to scream in alarm and the doctor dropped the syringe on the table. He injected Harold with something else that was on a different tray and grabbed the defibrillator.

After three shocks… Harold’s heart returned to a normal rhythm.

“Sir… if we keep doing this he’ll die… We were lucky to get him back this time.” The doctor looked at Greer through the observation window he was watching through.

“Well then. Stabilize him and take him to his room please.” Greer said, angry and annoyed and started to walk out of the room.

He turned to Lambert before he left, “Go with them… and Mister Lambert…”

“Yes, sir?” He inquired.

“Break him.”

#

Harold woke up in the bed in his usual room. He looked over to find Lambert sitting in a chair next to him. His heart sped up and his palms began to sweat.

“Relax Mister Finch; I just want to talk.” Lambert grinned.

Harold gave him a blank stare. He tried to sit up only to have his chest burn with pain. He grimaced and Lambert reached out and set a hand on his shoulder.

Finch flinched away and glared at the Samaritan agent.

“Mister Finch… Harold… We’re just trying to help… a world with Samaritan watching over it is a much safer world… and to make that happen… we need the location of your machine.” He handed Harold a glass of water, “Just tell us. We’ll let you go and then you can go back to your life… with your fiancé… Grace, isn’t it?”

“I swear if you go near her...” Harold shot back at him. “And don’t treat me like an idiot. I know the moment I tell you anything, I’ll be dead.”

“I’m hurt that you think that Harold.” Lambert leaned forward in the chair.

Harold had started to shiver, and he felt nauseous.

“Feeling cold Mister Finch?” Lambert smiled.

“Wh… what?” Harold replied.

“Well… I’m under the understanding that you take opioids for your unfortunate back and spinal injury… It’s been about two days since you’ve had any… the withdrawal symptoms should be starting soon… chills, vomiting, hallucinations, paranoia, mental confusion… among other things.” Lambert smiled and stood up. He set a bottle on the table, “I can give you some of these and it will solve your little problem… but I must ask something of you in return.”

“Oh… and what is… that?” Harold trembled.

“Give me the location of the machine and your friends,” Lambert stated.

Harold looked up at him disdainfully, “You know the funny thing… I’m honestly not sure.”

“Wrong answer.” Lambert grabbed the bottle… “Have fun Mister Finch,” and walked out the door and slammed it shut.

Harold knew what was coming, he had been through withdrawal before and he knew the additional hell he was facing but there was no way in hell he was giving his friends or The Machine up.


	3. Chapter 3

John and Root were still in the subway trying to figure out what connection the guy the machine sent them had to Harold.

Shaw was outside walking Bear, she couldn’t stand to sit around anymore.

“I think I found something…” Root started relaying the guy’s information and John rolled his chair over next to her, “His name is Jeff Gardner… he was an architect until about two months ago, and when we dig into his finances… he received quite a large sum of money from a company called Provisional Determinations about the same time he left his company.”

John scratched his head, “Are you saying Provisional Determinations is a cover for Samaritan?”

“I’m thinking so, yes. And if the machine sent us his number… he has to know where Harry is!” Root jumped up out of her chair and grabbed her coat.

“Where are you going?” John asked.

“He lives in a brownstone in the city. Where do you think I’m going?” Root scoffed and started to walk out of the subway. John grabbed his coat too and followed her.

Root tapped her earbud, “Hey sweetie, we got a lead on Harry. Meet us at 684 Jefferson.”

#

Harold was a mess. He clenched his eyes shut against the painfully bright light in the room, and he trembled and whimpered for a long while, never easing his grip on the sheet that covered his bed.

Occasionally, the doctor would come in and always do the same things, checked his pupil response, felt his pulse, checked his temperature, and then left.

“Not…much...of...a…a convers…sationalist are you?” Harold stuttered, the last time the doctor had entered the room.

The doctor had stopped in his tracks… looked back at Harold and grinned but said nothing in return and then he left.

The anxiety and confusion started to set it. His heart started to beat faster in his chest and he found himself jumping at every little creak and crack sound in the room. He stood up from the bed, only to be reminded that his hip was still messed up, and he fell to the floor in a heap. He felt a sudden surge of nausea.

As he lay on the floor, quaking and in torturous pain, he felt cool tears descending down his warm fever ridden face. “Please.” He whispered, “Make it stop.”

Harold couldn’t get up. He tried to roll over but his body wouldn’t cooperate.

Lambert and the doctor entered the room. They roughly grabbed Harold under his arms and dragged him up onto the bed. He squeezed his eyes shut, his heart pounded against his ribcage.

“Nathan?” Harold gasped and looked at Lambert. “Oh Nathan, please make them stop. I knew if we made the machine this would happen, I warned you they couldn’t be trusted.”

The two men ignored Harold’s incoherent rambling.

Doctor Garrett rolled Harold onto his stomach.

Harold groaned into the bed that his face was pressed up against. “Nath…Nathan. Please.” He begged.

The doctor injected something into Harold’s neck. He went limp and then the two men left.

“How long?” Lambert asked as they walked out of the room.

“It should speed up the withdrawal process so that he goes through the worst of the symptoms today and into the night.” The doctor replied.

“Good.”

#

All Harold’s six senses could register now was pain. Pain everywhere. Just the weight of the cotton grey t-shirt he was wearing was like chainmail on his skin. His hip and spine ached relentlessly. The trembling only added to the excess pain on his spinal injuries and he had a splitting headache.

He lay huddled around the small toilet in his 6x8 cell, vomiting every two minutes it seemed. There was nothing to throw up in his stomach anymore, so it was mostly dry heaving at this point. 

His face was drenched in sweat and tears, and his hair was a matted mess. He had to laugh, usually he’d be absolutely appalled by his current appearance, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care about it… about anything anymore.

He cried out intermittently as the imagined horrors of dismembered limbs and entrails floated through his mind. He clutched onto the bottom of the toilet, with his eyes squeezed shut, whispering to himself. “John’s coming. John always comes. He has to.” 

#

John, Root, and Sameen made it to their lead’s apartment. They made their way up the stairs and noticed that it looked like it had been abandoned a long while ago.

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s here.” Shaw said as she glanced at the dark windows.

“That’s what he wants us to think.” Root scoffed and held out her hand to John. “Knife please.”

John narrowed his eyes and grabbed his knife out of his back pocket.

Root picked the lock and turned to her colleagues, “Minor resistance, he bought a handgun about a week ago, one to the kneecap should do it.” She said with a wink.

Shaw and Reese both rolled their eyes and Root opened the door slowly. “Jeff?” She called out.

They heard moving upstairs and John made his way up the steps, followed by Shaw. Root made her way into the living room.

John found Jeff upstairs pointing his gun at him. “Who… who are you?!” He cried out. “Stay away from me! I’ll shoot!”

“You know… if you’re going to buy a gun…” Reese started as he made his way slowly towards him, “you should learn how to…” He snatched the gun out of his hands, “Use it.”

Shaw smirked and lowered her gun.

Reese grabbed Jeff by the shoulder and tugged him downstairs, “We’re going to need your help. Tell us what we want to know and no one gets hurt, sound good?”

“Wh…what do you want to know?”

Reese tossed him into the chair next to where Root was standing, “Where’s our friend.” Reese demanded and took a picture of Harold out of his coat pocket and shoved it towards him, “He looks like this. We have it on good authority that you know where he is. Now, where is he?” John asked again angrily.

“I’ve never seen that guy before in my life!” Jeff yelled, scared out of his mind.

Reese sighed and his head fell in frustration, he picked his head back up and put the gun to Jeff’s temple. “I’m usually a pretty patient person… but I’m not right now. And these ladies here have even less patience than I do…”

Root smiled.

“Now please. Tell me where he is.” John gritted his teeth.

“I swear on my kids’ life I have never seen that man before.” He cried out again.

“Then why are you so important…?” Root asked as she walked over in front of him.

“Why are you asking me?!” Jeff yelled.

“Not talking to you.” She replied and walked over to the window. “Why did you leave your company?”

“How do you…” He started and sighed, “Some guy hired my company to construct this building. Out in the woods in the middle of nowhere…” He looked at John, “He said no questions asked and I’d receive the payment when I was finished…” He stopped.

“And….” John pressed the gun harder to his head.

“It was five hundred thousand dollars… what was I supposed to do?!”

“What happened after you built it?” Root asked as she paced around the room.

“They paid me. I thought I was set. My kids could go to college, my wife wouldn’t have to work… but then things got weird.” He trailed off.

“Keep talking.” John said.

“Well… I just kept getting this feeling I was being watched… So, I sent my family out of the city to stay with my mother-in-law… I was planning to join them after I was sure no one followed me.”

 “This guy you said came to visit you… describe him.” Root demanded.

“I don’t know… about 6’1, dark brown hair…” he started, “Oh. And he had a British accent.”

“Lambert.” All three of them breathed out.

“The building he built is for Samaritan. If the machine sent us his number… the building…” Root started.

“Has to be where Harold is.” John finished. He grabbed Jeff under the arm and ripped him out of the chair. “You’re going to show us where the building is. And then we’ll let you go.” He promised.

Shaw grabbed John by the shoulder, “Reese. We have to have a plan… we can’t just go in hot and get us, along with Harold, killed.”

John sighed, “Fine, I know, but we need to hurry. They’ve already had him for 36 hours.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The awesome simulations are written by the great M_E_Lover!

_“Harold! I knew you would come, my friend… time for us to face the music.” Nathan smiled at Harold… and then the whole world went white hot and then darkness followed._

Harold woke up lying on the floor next to the toilet. He picked his head up slowly and groaned out in pain from the stiffness. His head fell back down to the floor and he didn’t bother to try to get up again.

His stomach started to cramp up excruciatingly and he curled into himself. He tried to force himself up but he moved too quickly and the room pitched and swayed. His heart pounded like a jackhammer and anger, and frustration built up to a fevered pace in his chest.

He heard the door open and then someone knelt down beside him and pushed him over onto his back.

“Morning Harold.” It was the doctor.

Harold didn’t say anything and allowed the doctor to pick him up and set him on the edge of the bed without a fight.

He pried Harold’s fingers away from his palms and set a pill into his hand.

Harold looked at him, clearly confused.

“Don’t worry.” The doctor smiled. “They’re not watching… They’re waiting for you in the operating room.”

Harold lifted the pill to his mouth and swallowed it down, he didn’t care what it was at the moment. Nothing could hurt him much more than he was already hurting anyway.

He closed his eyes and cringed at the mention of the operating room. It meant more simulations.

The doctor turned his arm over and lifted a syringe to it.

Harold’s brows furrowed and he ripped his arm away from him.

“Relax. It’s morphine.” The doctor smiled, “I imagine your hip hurts pretty bad.”

Harold scoffed, “Everything hurts.”

Doctor Garrett looked at Harold’s arm. Harold nodded for him to proceed, at this point, he was beyond caring what was being done to him. He didn’t trust anyone and he couldn’t care less whether he lived or died and if there was something other than a painkiller in the syringe then so be it. He would play along until death claimed him.

He injected Harold with the painkiller and stood up. He wheeled the wheelchair over next to the bed.

Harold closed his eyes and let out a whimper.

“I’m sorry...” Said the doctor.

Harold just gave him a sad smile and maneuvered himself into the chair. He was wheeled into the operating room and strapped to the table.

He complied zombie-like, with no emotion. The syringe held more than morphine he realized belatedly.

The doctor put the visor on his face, he couldn’t move he was forced to lay there without any choice. The substance that was administered into his bloodstream did its job and he succumbed to darkness.

#

“Harold!” He heard a voice in the distance he recognized but could not place at the moment. He opened his eyes and he was in his dorm room at MIT. “Harold!” He heard again from the hall. Arthur Claypool ran into the room and said, “Come on we’re going to be late!” He exclaimed panting and clearly out of breath.

“Late for what Arthur?” He asked. “Oh come on! Don’t tell me you forgot, you need to quit your studying for a friggin minute and enjoy yourself, you nerd! The girls aren’t going to wait for us forever you know, so if you want some company of the female persuasion at all this semester you better change your clothes and get moving pal!”

“Yeah, you’re right Arthur, I did forget.” Harold apologized.

We’re meeting up with Nathan and Olivia in thirty minutes so hurry up! Dianne and Susan will be waiting there too so get your ass in gear!

Harold took a quick shower and dressed in his best clothes and slapped some aftershave on his cheeks. It took him all of ten minutes to race through the process.

“Good now let’s go!” Arthur prompted anxiously. “I don’t know about you but I’m looking forward to some heavy petting.” He added. Harold rolled his eyes, “Calm down for Pete’s sake you act like you’re hard up you dweeb.” Harold teased.

“I am hard up, aren’t you?” He joked back and they both laughed as they made their way to the movie theater to hook up with the rest of their friends.

When they got to the movie palace Nathan was outside waiting for them.

“The girls are inside, we got seats in the back row.” He said smirking at the insinuation. “Here’s your tickets let’s get this party started!” Nathan stated excitedly. The young men made for their seats just as the house lights faded and Harold sat next to his date Susan and Arthur sat next to his girlfriend Dianne. They apologized for being late but the girls didn’t mind. Arthur immediately put his arm around Dianne and they both sunk into their seats and started making out before the trailers even started and Nathan and Olivia sat comfortably huddled together waiting for the main attraction.

Harold was a little nervous only have met Susan a couple of times before but she wasn’t shy and took Harold’s arm and put it around her shoulders and hung on to his hand bringing it close to her breast. She clearly had some necking in mind and Harold didn’t mind in the least. He thoroughly enjoyed kissing especially and considered himself quite the authority on the subject, the French style was his favorite and he thought that he excelled at that particular type.

The trailers finished and the house lights came down throwing the room into almost pitch black before the film started and then the real fun began with all three respective couples. Harold was quite enjoying Susan’s enthusiasm, kissing slowly at first then amping it up into the obscene. All of them were enjoying themselves when all of a sudden, an explosion rocked the theater.

Everyone in the place was stunned momentarily as they tried to figure out what was happening. Smoke billowed from the lobby and into the theater and Harold stood up and pulled his date to her feet.

“We have to get out of here now!” He exclaimed panicking. “Come on to the emergency exit hurry!” They all scrambled to the front of the room and hurried out, confused as to what had happened but taking Harold’s lead without question.

They ran into the back parking lot and heard multiple airplane engines coming ever closer. Then they looked up and saw them heading straight for them at breakneck speed and realized that they were all going to die. The girls all screamed in fear while the guys held them, trying to offer what little comfort they could as they waited for the end. 

Nathan and Arthur looked at Harold and smiled grimly at him. Then Nathan said, “This is your doing Harold, you have killed us all.”

Harold didn’t have time to ask Nathan what he was talking about before one of the airliners hit the parking lot and skidded directly for them. He closed his eyes and waited for the impact, all the while wondering how he was responsible but sadly accepting Nathan’s word that it had to be his fault somehow. In his mind, he screamed at the injustice of his friends dying so young, with so much to offer the world but never being able to fulfill their potentials.

Then he felt himself being pulled again in another direction and seemed to be in a dream state.

#

“Harold?” He woke up to the smell of bacon and sausage. He was in his room on the farm. His father called for him again. “Harold, breakfast is getting cold, hurry up it won’t wait all morning!” His father shouted from the kitchen.

“I’m coming, dad!” He yelled back and sprang from his bed. He got his jeans and flannel shirt on and grabbed his shoes and socks and hurried downstairs happily.

“What took you so long son?” his father asked.

“I just woke up dad, sheesh!” He chuckled.

His dad smiled back at him and said, “We have a lot of work to do in the fields before you run off to meet with your friends son, you have responsibilities ya know.” He chuckled and scooped some scrambled eggs onto Harold’s plate.

“I know dad, but I thought that I would hang out here with you when I’m finished with my chores, I thought we could get the old truck running again together.” Harold offered.

“That sounds nice son.” He smiled, “Are you sure you want to waste your time with an old guy like me?” He asked.

“Of course dad, there’s nothing I’d rather do today.” Harold smiled warmly at his father and his dad smiled back. Then as he sat at the kitchen table he watched in shock as his father seemed to age decades right in front of his startled eyes. Then he looked at his own hands and saw them age too, wrinkles appearing on the backs of them as he watched in stunned silence. When he looked at his father again, the man was staring off into space with eyes vacant of all he once knew. Harold gasped in horror as his father slumped forward onto the table and took one last breath then released it, eyes wide open and lost to the world forever. He couldn’t move or cry out and the dismay filled him to the brink until he felt as if he would burst from it, he closed his eyes and felt tears flooding inside of his eyelids and overflowing down onto his cheeks.

Suddenly he felt a searing jolt of electricity, breaking the spell that had subdued him and forcing him back to full awareness and when he opened his eyes he was back in the operating room gasping for air and for some kind of relief from the pain of his ordeal and the grief he felt in his heart.

Greer stood over his trembling body with the visor in his hands and asked, “Did you have a nice trip, Harold? How is your father?” And he smiled at him maliciously.

Finch broke down and wept uncontrollably.  
#

John, Shaw, and Root had thought up a plan to break into the facility. It wasn’t the most thought-out idea, but they couldn’t wait any longer. They had to get Finch back, now!

“This is the plan?” Shaw scoffed, “You are literally the interface to an all-seeing eye and this is all you could come up with.”

“She’s assuring me that if we are careful it will work. Harry’s life is in immediate danger so she didn’t have a lot of time. We need to get moving.”

“Okay. I’m driving. Jeff’s in the front seat telling me where to go and when we get there he stays in the car…” John trailed off.

“What if we don’t make it back…?” Shaw asked.

“Not an option.” John interrupted. “Harold has saved our lives plenty of times. It’s time we return the favor.” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING.  
> Attempted suicide described in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simulations once again are by the great M_E_Lover!  
> This chapter's a bit long, but I didn't want to stop it before the point I did. Sorry to leave you at the cliffhanger ;)  
> Uriah Heep reference is from Charles Dickens' book, David Copperfield because Greer is basically the twin to the villain Uriah Heep in that book.

Harold opened his eyes, he couldn’t remember how he and John had gotten into the alleyway but here they were again, running for their lives.

Through the dark narrow opening ahead of them, they could see Root and Shaw motioning to them to hurry up.

“Come on Harry, you have to move quicker than that!” She yelled.

“Mister Reese, please go on, I can’t keep this pace up, leave me!

“That’s not happening, Finch! Move your ass or I’ll pick you up and carry you!”

A shot rang out and ricocheted off the walls causing them both to duck for cover.

As much as it seemed they ran they were no closer to the end of the alley and the two women that were shouting at them to hurry.

The two Samaritan operators were closing in and Reese pushed Finch down along the dirty wall behind some trash cans. He fired his weapon twice and then turned to him. “Finch, I can keep them off you for a minute or two, you have to go ahead of me!”

“That’s not happening John, I will not leave you.” He exclaimed.

“Listen, Harold, you’ll only hold me up! If there’s any chance for us to make it out of this alive this is how we have to do it! I’ll be directly behind you once you’re safe. We can do this.” Another shot rang out and they reflexively ducked for cover once again.

“Please Harold!” John implored.

“Promise me you’ll be right behind me John!”

Reese nodded.

“On three, one…two… three, go!” John stood up and fired his gun as Finch ran as best he could towards the opening and the two women waiting for them.

Shaw stood and fired her gun as well supplying Reese with cover so that he too ran towards their escape.

They got out of the alley safely and Shaw managed to kneecap the operatives that were chasing them, effectively securing their safe getaway.

Harold and John were gasping for air as they all made their way to the large black sedan that would serve as their transportation. The vehicle’s dark tinted windows would serve as a good cover to avoid anyone else that may be in the area.

“That was too close!” Harold panted. He turned to the group and thanked them all for a job well done.

“It makes things interesting that’s for sure!” Shaw laughed.

She opened the back door for Harold to get in and John Greer sat in the seat and grinned wickedly.

The front door flew open and Lambert pointed his semi-automatic at the group, mowing down them all in a flurry of bullets. All but for Harold who stood over the writhing bloodied bodies of his three comrades in shock.

“Shall we go now Mister Finch? We have work to do.” Greer sneered. Lambert took Harold by the arm and roughly shoved him the back seat. Harold couldn’t respond, he was stunned at the horror of what he had just witnessed.

“There now, no more loose ends to tie our business up, let’s get to work.”

Suddenly Harold awoke to his own screaming piercing his eardrums. He was in another time and place, in agony from the pain that was in his hip and the nightmare he had just been a part of.

“Mr. Finch calm down.” Greer scolded him and took the visor off his face. “I just don’t understand… you see all this could end if you would just tell us where your machine is.”

Harold started to chuckle.

“Something funny?” Greer smirked.

“Have you ever read David Copperfield?”

Greer didn’t answer…

“This is very Uriah Heep of you Mr. Greer.” Harold laughed until Greer came over and unstrapped his restraints. He had a look of confusion on his face.

“I trust you won’t try anything,” Greer replied to Harold’s confused look. “Let’s talk. One gentleman to another.”

Harold glared at him, “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Mr. Finch… Samaritan is the future. Your machine has paved the way for it. We don’t want to kill your machine. We want to improve it… combine the core code with Samaritan. You crippled your machine. We want to fix it.”

Harold’s eyes narrowed, “How can you be so ignorant?” He sat up on the bed weakly to sit face to face with Greer, “How long before Samaritan determines it wants to fix you? Determine that you are… bad code.”

“Mr. Finch… As the father of AI, I assumed you would be smarter than this.” Greer leaned in close to Finch, “Samaritan is all that matters. The world will thrive under its control. Not to mention what it could learn better of humanity from your machine if they were to merge.”

“That will never happen.” Harold scoffed. “I’ll never tell you where it is. So, you might as well kill me.”

“Mr. Finch… I do hope this next simulation we have picked out for you changes your mind.”

Greer motioned for the doctor and Lambert to come into the room, they strapped Harold down after some resistance, and the doctor injected a drug into Harold’s neck again and he immediately felt himself being pulled away.

#

When Harold opened his eyes, he was in a dark room, a speaker hung from one corner and the only object in the room with him was a wooden chair. Behind him was a two-way mirror where to his absolute horror he saw Grace, alone and bound tightly to a chair. Her eyes were blindfolded and he could hear her through the speaker in the room that held her quietly weeping.

He could tell she was scared to death.

She trembled with fear and anticipation of what she couldn’t see and in front of her sat an empty chair.  “Grace!” He shouted and beat on the glass with his fists. She turned her head toward the sound of pounding coming from her left but could not hear Harold shouting her name.

“Who’s there?!” She exclaimed terrified of the sound she could not identify.

He didn’t know what to do, he was terrified for her and he continued to beat on the glass to no avail, the strenuous action weighing on him.

He sat on the wooden chair and breathed heavily and then he watched desperately as the door opened admitting Greer with Lambert in tow.

Grace stiffened at the sound of footsteps approaching her. Harold jumped from his seat and pressed his hands to the glass and rested his forehead against it, his hot heavy breath fogging it as he observed, incensed and helpless to intervene.

“Who’s there!?” She cried again as Greer sat directly in front of her with Lambert standing quietly at his side.

Harold stood and could do nothing but watch and listen as the horrific scene played out in front of him.

“Please!” She sobbed. “Who’s there?!”

Then to Harold’s complete shock and dismay, he heard his own voice being broadcast over an elaborate sound system in the room that imprisoned her. The sound that emanated from the speakers must have sounded to Grace as if he were right there with her.

“Grace my darling I’m here.” He heard his own voice saying to her warmly.

“Harold?” She answered tremulously. “Is… is that you?”

“Yes, my love it’s me.” Just then Greer leaned forward and caressed her cheek tenderly.

Harold screamed “Don’t you touch her you son-of-a-bitch! God damn you!” And pounded on the glass with his fists until his knuckles bled.

“Harold! What’s happening…. please let me see you!” She pleaded.

Greer sat back and grinned wickedly as she begged him to remove her blindfold.

“No Grace, I’m sorry I can’t do that.” Harold heard himself say through the speakers and his own labored breathing.

“But why Harold?” She replied sobbing.

“Because you’ve been a wicked woman, my dear,” Greer answered with amusement directing his right-hand man to go behind her.

Grace startled at the new voice to her ears unable to conceal her fear.

Harold watched with dread as Greer nodded to Lambert to remove her blindfold. And as he did so, he stayed in place behind the terrified woman.

She recognized Greer immediately and blinked rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the harsh light of the empty room.

“You!” She exclaimed. “Why have you brought me here…. where is Harold?”

Finch felt tears of frustration run down his cheeks unable to help as he watched the confusion turn to fear on her beautiful face.

“Harold is the reason you are here, Miss Hendricks.” He answered with sinister pleasure.

“Please, I don’t understand, I heard him, where is he? Let me see him!”

Greer sat forward in his chair looking at Grace with disdain, “I’m afraid that that’s not on the agenda Miss Hendricks. You see, Mister Finch, or should I say Martin for your benefit,” He chuckled cruelly, “Is behind that pane of glass.” He motioned towards the large mirror that took up the majority of the wall where Harold stood impeded, “And although you cannot see him I assure you that he can see you.”

“I don’t believe you!” She exclaimed.

“Oh, then let me prove it to you.” He nodded to Lambert and he came around Grace to walk to a switch on the wall.  When Lambert flicked the switch the mirror had then become visible in both directions.

Grace and Harold made eye contact and she finally had discernable proof that he was still alive.

Finch looked at her dumbstruck for words as tears streaked both their faces.

“Harold!” She gasped and pulled at her restraints.

“Grace!” He shouted and again pressed his bloodied hands to the glass and slapped at it pointlessly, it was no use.

“This is what we have all been waiting for.” Greer smiled maliciously.

“Please, Mister Lambert proceed.”

Lambert walked back behind Grace once again and pulled a long, thick, nylon cord from his suit pocket.

Harold’s eyes went wide in horror as Greer motioned to his man and Lambert moved suddenly to throw the line over Graces head and around her throat.

As the life was being squeezed from her body she heard Harold’s voice again but this time it was cold and heartless, “Die you worthless bitch! You useless piece of garbage!”

Harold couldn’t believe his ears, he couldn’t believe what he was being forced to witness and her gasps were agony to his ears.

He couldn’t comprehend how utterly hopeless and painful it was to hear the love of his life being made to believe that he wanted her dead and in such an excruciatingly cruel manner.

He screamed out, “No! No! Stop!”

For him to have to watch was too much. He screamed uselessly then, picking up the chair, he smashed it against the glass with all his strength.

It only broke the wooden structure to pieces; the glass was undamaged.

He pressed his forehead to the glass still pounding with what little strength he had left as he watched the life drain from Grace’s eyes as she stared into his desperate gaze. And then her life was forever extinguished as if a candle had been blown out in a tempest of pain and fear.

He sank to the floor, back against the wall, in an exhausted heap.

There was no emotion left in him, he was through, he felt as lifeless as his lost love’s eyes.

“There now Mister Finch, how did you enjoy our show?” Greer mocked from the other room.

Harold sat against the wall motionless and his eyes scanned the floor unconsciously. Then he spied something amidst the debris of wooden shards and pieces that lay strewn about the room. It was a dagger. A lethal instrument that could bring him peace and oblivion.

The weapon had evidently been taped underneath the chair, his mind had worked on its own, on auto-pilot, as he looked down at the blade that he now held between his hands. He sat back again, the wall the only thing propping his unfeeling body upright, and he looked up towards the door to find John Greer staring down at him, grinning all the while.

His hands moved of their own accord as he placed the sharp point between his ribs just to the left of his breastbone, directed inward, towards his broken heart.

“You see Mister Finch,” Greer started. “We can do this as many times as it takes.” He chuckled. “But you can end it all now, by telling us what we want to know.”

“Yes,” Finch replied. “I can end it now.” He answered dazed.

Harold stared vacantly into Greer’s eyes as he plunged the blade directly into his heart.

#

Harold gasped back into consciousness and was lying on the bed in his room. He didn’t know what was real anymore, his breath came in sharp painful huffs. The simulations were frying his brain and his body, he realized distractedly. 

The door opened and Greer stepped inside with his ever-present guard dog close behind.

“Ah, Mister Finch.” He began, “I see that you’ve returned unharmed from your latest trip. Did you enjoy seeing your fiancé?” He chuckled callously. “I enjoyed creating that particular…scenario if you will.” He laughed. “And I assure you, sir, I can be much more graphic in every regard. I can be as sweet to your pretty little fiancé as I like.” He grinned and winked insinuatingly. “Or I can be as vicious and gruesome as I like.” He smiled wickedly and with great relish. “You can’t imagine the horrors my mind can conceive of. Just give us what we want and it will all end. I’ll leave you to ponder my offer once again”

Harold made no reply and felt his blood pressure rising as he remembered how this evil man had dared to touch his love and the cruel way he had casually dispatched her life.

“Until next time Mister Finch.” Greer turned to leave the room with Lambert. “I will be back very soon to receive your decision.” Lambert closed the door behind them as they left.

This last simulation had him questioning everything. He didn’t think he could go through seeing Grace touched and defiled by Greer and killed continuously before him again and again by this evil monster, and in far worse ways he was sure of.

He stared at the ceiling, wondering why he was holding on.

Root and Sameen had no doubt fled by now. There was no way they’d find him even if they were looking.

Grace would be killed if he went back to her or if she even knew he was alive.

Nathan was dead.

John was dead.

And he was alone.

No one was coming to save him.

Life felt numb now. Empty. Hopeless.

He felt himself get up from the bed. He barely registered what he was doing and before he knew it, he had the sheet from his bed tied into a knot and thrown over one of the exposed pipes that were visible in the ceiling of his small cell.

He slipped it around his neck and stood up onto the only chair in the room… 

He inhaled a deep breath … and out… and just before he took his step into the unknown… he felt a tear roll down his cheek… he heard the door slam open and then he jumped.

He felt the makeshift noose tighten around his throat. He felt like his eyes might pop out of his head. His breath was clipped and he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs.

The room started to spin and his vision blurred.

Just as he was about to fade into darkness, the noose was cut and he fell heavily to the floor.

He crashed down onto the hard concrete ground and a weak groan escaped him with what little bit of air that was left in his lungs. The impact and the tight binding around his throat were constricting and he tried desperately, reflexively, to try to refill his lungs with the air that had been pulled from them.

He managed to turn himself onto his back and struggled to draw short breaths in through his nose.

He laid horizontal, his chest heaving fiercely as he stared blinking up at the ceiling.

A tall figure fell to his knees beside him and his hands moved for the sheet. The white fabric had dug in. He had to pull it away.

Harold’s eyes were full of tears and he couldn’t see anything through the blur. His glasses had fallen off his face when he had hit the ground and now he was practically blind...


	6. Chapter 6

The tall male figure tried to pull Harold to his feet. But Harold wouldn’t move.

He heard the figure call his name. He knew that voice. He never thought he’d hear that voice again. That voice was dead.

“Harold!” There it was again.

Finally, Harold’s glasses were set back onto his face and he could see…

“J…John?!?!” Harold rasped out of his painful inflamed throat.

John knelt in front of him in bright green medical scrubs.

“Harold come on. Let’s go. Let’s get you out of here.” John said calmly with a smile.

He was trying to hide the shock of him just walking in on Finch trying to kill himself. A numbness slowly seeped through the pit of his stomach.

“No. You’re dead. This is… a simulation. I’m… no…” Harold stuttered.

“Harold… it’s me. John. I’m here to take you home.” John was starting to get nervous. Harold’s confusion-filled eyes seemed to look right through him.

He looked horrible… there was no telling what they did to him. The side of his face was scraped and raw, bruises flowered from jawline to temple from the impact of falling to the floor after being cut down. The grey t-shirt he had on was covered in sweat and the black sweatpants they had him in were torn and dirty. John felt taken aback. He had never seen Harold in less than a 3-piece suit...

“Home… there is no… home. I left… left him behind.” Harold slurred and looked up at John with sad eyes, “Am I… dead? Is that why you’re here?” He stared at John, his eyes wild and his pupils blown wide open and intense.

John’s head fell in dismay, “Shaw… I can’t get him to leave with me… he’s… confused.” John whispered into his earpiece.

“Well, I guess that’s why the machine had us bring the sedative,” Shaw replied,

“Hurry up. You only have 5 minutes before they realize the camera malfunction isn’t a ploy.” Root hissed.

John hurriedly pulled the syringe out of the scrub pants pocket he was wearing and held it out and moved towards Finch to inject him.

Harold saw the needle and started to flail his arms around and to get away from John. He looked like an animal backed into a corner fighting for his life.

John ached to gather him in. His eyes started to water at the sight…

“It’s all right Harold… It’s just going to help you sleep. Okay?”

Harold only looked at him out of the corners of his eyes and wouldn’t stop fidgeting… pushing himself into the corner of the small room with his uninjured leg, trying everything is his power to get away… but John quickly grabbed Harold’s arms and pressed them to his chest. “I’m so sorry Harold.” He then pulled him close to his own chest and injected the drug into Harold’s neck.

Harold’s trembling stopped and he went limp in John’s embrace.

John hugged him close and gently pulled him to his feet and set him down in the wheelchair. He knelt in front of the older man as he sat slumped over and he touched his cheek with the palm of his hand, “I’m so sorry.”

#

John wheeled Harold to the room where Shaw and Root were waiting. Bodies of the Samaritan agents they had… detained lay heaped on the floor.

Root’s eyes widened at the sight of Harold’s limp, abused body sitting in the chair. “I’m going to kill…”

Shaw nudged her arm when the alarm sounded to tell them it was time to get out.

“Root you push the chair in the middle… John, you watch the back and I’ll take the lead.” Shaw smirked. “Hope they won’t mind losing their kneecaps.”

“They don’t deserve to keep breathing,” John exclaimed. “I don’t care where I hit them.” He cocked his gun and they made their way out of the room.

#

They almost made it. Almost.

 Just as they were about the get out of the building, John got hit. One to the leg. It was enough to take him down.

He fell to the floor with a groan. Shaw and Root both turned around.

“Go.” He gritted his teeth.

Shaw looked to Root and then made her way back to Reese. “I’m sure as hell not going to be the one to tell Harold your dumb ass got shot and you sacrificed yourself… again.” She grabbed his arm, “So let’s go.”

He grunted and groaned and followed them out to the SUV.

Shaw had taken out the two agents that got to them as they hit the door.

Jeff ran out of the car to help them and between the three, they managed to get Harold laid out in the back seat, settled against John.

Reese alternated between watching for Samaritan agents out of the car's front and back windows, gripping his Sig-Sauer tightly.

Shaw and Root got into the front and Jeff jumped in the far back.

Shaw shoved the key in the ignition and looked back to John before she put it in drive. He gave her a small nod and she took off.

#

Doctors Tillman and Madani met them at the safe house with the full medical wing.

Shaw and Jeff managed to get Harold onto the examination table in the ICU suite and Root helped John limp up the steps.

They all made their way inside the room with Finch.

Tillman took one look at Harold’s hip and hissed in abhorrence.

“What the hell happened?” She asked John.

“Better for you if you don’t know Megan.” He replied, and didn’t take his eyes off Harold.

Tillman noticed the blood soaked through his pants. “Okay. Shaw go see to John and then meet us back in here to help with Harold.” She looked at Dr. Madani, “We will take care of him now… you three can wait outside. The fewer people in here the better.”

Both Root and John opened their mouths to protest but Madani cut them off, “We will keep you updated as soon as we know something.”

Shaw turned to walk out of the room but John stopped her. “I can stitch myself up. Stay with Harold.” He glanced at Harold’s limp body lying on the table and frowned.

He, Root, and Jeff left and went out into the living room.

#

John was in the bathroom with his leg propped up on the bathtub.

He removed the shrapnel out of his thigh and tied the last stitch.

Once he finished, he put on a new pair of pants and looked in the mirror.

He thought about Harold.

How bad must it have been for Harold to actually try to kill himself?

He kept seeing him hanging from the ceiling, clutching at his throat, and kicking his legs…

John splashed some water on his face and made his way back out to the others.

“Where’s Jeff?” He asked as he came out. 

“Bedroom. I thought you’d like to talk to him before we let him go.”  Root answered, not looking up from her laptop.

“He can stay in there. I don’t want to leave until Finch wakes up.” John said as he started to walk towards the kitchen.

“I’ll take him.” Root started, “I need to run a few errands anyways.” She stood up and patted John on the shoulder, “Take care of Harry.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is on the shorter side, sorry! Lol  
> So Finch is finally rescued, stay tuned for his recovery!


	7. Chapter 7

Harold woke up to the same beeping sound from before.

The beeping got faster again.

He opened his eyes and saw three people over in the corner of the room. He didn’t have his glasses on so he couldn’t see them very well or tell who they were.

He immediately felt his chest start to tighten.

He closed his eyes and tried to stifle the panic.

The three figures must have sensed he had woken up and was panicking because soon they were right next to him. “Harold?”

That’s a new voice, Harold thought. Maybe not new but someone he hasn’t heard since he’s been with Samaritan.

“Harold, open your eyes for me.”

Harold didn’t want to open his eyes, he didn’t want to see or hear, he didn’t want to live.

He heard one of the people leave the room after another few long moments of trying to coax Harold into opening his eyes with no success.

#

John was in the living room desperately waiting to hear an update on Harold.

He saw Shaw come out of the room and walk over to him.

He made his way towards her, “How is he?”

“He’s… alive.” She frowned. “Did you notice his neck?” She asked and it almost knocked the wind out of Reese.

He didn’t say anything.

“Yeah. Well… I’ll let you talk to him about it.” She started again, “His hip is toast. Bastards popped it out of place and the pins and screws he has in there are completely useless. He’ll need surgery to replace those, if not a full hip replacement.”

Reese closed his eyes and tried to hold back the pure rage rising in his chest.

“He’s got some cuts and bruises, and a shit load of needle marks…” She trailed off but started again when John looked at her to continue, “We ran blood tests, Megan is taking them to the lab at her hospital in a few to see what they gave him. And it sounds like he has a heart arrhythmia.” 

“When I found him…” John swallowed, “He said something about simulations…”

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to ask him about it,” Shaw said.

“Is he awake?” Reese asked.

“That’s why I came out here actually.”

Reese gave her a questioning look.

“I think he’s awake, but he won’t open his eyes.” Shaw sighed.

“He what?” Reese scoffed.

“You know as well as I do that being held captive like that can screw with you,” Shaw said. “Get your ass in there and get him to open his eyes.”

John smiled sadly and made his way into the back medical room.

When he opened the door, he saw Harold struggling and whimpering away from Doctor Madani who was trying to put something into his IV.

His eyes were still closed but he was aware of his surroundings and he tried desperately to get away from the doctor. They had gotten him into one of the hospital gowns they kept at the safehouse. He had two bandage strips over a large cut under his right eye.

John ran over to Harold and set his hand on Harold’s chest, “Finch. Calm down it’s me, John. Open your eyes okay?”

“No…” Finch trembled and his voice was soft, “None of this is real.” He took a deep breath, “If I don’t open my eyes, nothing bad will happen and I won’t have to go back to that God forsaken room.”

John looked at Shaw while tears brimmed at the corners of his eyes and then back to Harold. “Finch…” He grabbed Harold’s hand, “It’s me. John Reese. You’re in the safe house in Manhattan, Doctors Tillman and Madani are here along with Shaw… Root went out to get a few things but she’ll be back soon.” John looked at Harold who seemed to have calmed down a tiny bit but still wouldn’t open his eyes. “You were taken by Samaritan about 4 days ago, but we got you back… The machine helped us.”

Harold took a deep breath in and finally opened his eyes.

John noticed the squint and he grabbed Harold’s glasses off the table and slid them onto his face. “Better?” John asked with a smile.

“Better.” Harold rasped and lifted his hand to adjust his spectacles. “Thank you.”

Harold couldn’t take his eyes away from John.

He looked for the tiniest hint that this was all just another simulation and John was really dead.

John held out a glass of water to Harold, he stared at it for a moment… remembering Lambert handing him a glass of water right before they forced him into withdrawal.

“Harold?” John asked after he noticed the older man’s gaze. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” Harold said and looked at Shaw, “By the way, my hip feels I’m assuming it’s not good.”  

She smirked, “They completely dislocated it, Harold. You’re going to need either a surgery to replace the pins and screws. Or a full hip replacement, we don’t know at this point.” Her smirk turned into a frown.

“Oh,” Harold replied.

He suddenly remembered why his throat hurt and he couldn’t get out more than a barely audible rasp.

“Harold. Do you think you can tell us what happened?” Asked Megan.

John turned his head and glared at her.

“It’s okay John,” Harold whispered. He took another breath. “I’m not sure what they injected me with, but other than the hip… there wasn’t really anything physically…” He paused.

“Did they do anything that would have caused problems with your heart?” Shaw asked as she moved over closer to Harold.

“Yes… they injected me with a barbiturate and then an amphetamine.”

John and Shaw looked at each other. They had both done it to people before and now they were forced to look at the aftermath.

“How many times?” Shaw choked out.

“I don’t recall… more than twenty I think.” Harold’s heart began to beat faster and the heart monitor beeped to let them know that his BP was rising.

“Okay. We’ll give you a break for a while Harold.” Shaw said, “Megan is going to get your blood work back and then we’ll have a better idea of what they gave you. If your heart arrhythmia doesn’t go away with the medication, we’ll have to evaluate the issue then. But we’ll talk about that later.” Shaw nodded to the doctors to join her out in the hallway.

John got up to follow them until Harold reached out and grabbed his arm, “No…”

John turned and looked to Shaw. She shrugged her shoulders and her and the doctors left the room.

John turned to Harold, “What’s going on Harold?” He pulled up a chair and sat next to him, “What did they do to you?”

Harold closed his eyes, “They said you were dead.”

John sighed and realized why Harold had been so confused and wouldn’t stop looking at him.

“They altered my reality… at least that’s what Greer said… they put me through… these hellish simulations.”

Harold closed his eyes and the monitor started to beep again.

“Okay, Harold… You can stop.” John said. He didn’t want to hear anything else that they did to him or he would go back to the building right now and kill every single one of them.

Harold tried to sit up but winced at the stabbing pain in his hip.  

John managed to help him scoot up in the bed and also raised the head of the bed up. “Here, they hooked you up to a morphine pump.” John handed him the PCA pump’s button and Harold grasped it gratefully. “Get some sleep, Harold.” John patted him on the shoulder.

“I can’t sleep…” Harold whispered out.

“What?”

“I can’t sleep because I’m afraid if I go to sleep then I’ll wake up and you won’t be here and none of this will be real.”

John smiled sadly, “Okay.” He sighed.

He understood what Harold was going through. Maybe not exactly, but John had been held captive before. He knew how badly it could mess with a person’s mental state.

Finch had basically had his brain tampered with for the past 4 days… and John wasn’t going to force him to do anything he didn’t want to do.

“I didn’t tell them anything.” Harold blurted out.

“I know,” John said matter of factly. “That’s why I didn’t ask. I knew you wouldn’t have.”

Harold just looked back up to the ceiling, “I’m sorry.”

John laughed, “For what?”

“Are we just going to act like you didn’t walk in on me trying to end my life?” Harold scoffed.

John just kept looking at Harold.

“I just…”

“Finch. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” John smiled. “Just know that I know where you were in your thinking. I’ve been there before, I completely understand.”

Harold smiled for the first time in almost a week.

“But. If you ever try it again, I’ll kick your ass.” John started to laugh and Harold chuckled as well.

#

Root took Jeff out of the city and to a bus stop, “Here, take these. It’s everything you’ll need for you and your family to start over.”

Jeff looked at her in amazement, “How…” 

“Just take it.” Root smiled and handed him a big yellow envelope.

“Thank you.” He replied before he got out of the car. He turned back to Root before he shut the door, “I hope your friend is okay…”

She smiled sadly at him as he shut the door.

#

Harold had fallen asleep and Shaw entered the room some time later.

John was asleep in the chair, he hadn’t slept much since Harold had been taken. He stirred when Shaw came over.

“Got the bloodwork back.” She said shortly.

“And…” John sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“Well, there’s traces of an array of sedatives, a paralytic, and DXM.”

“DXM….?” John questioned.

“Speeds up and worsens the withdrawal process, John.” Shaw started. “The bastards forced him into withdrawal and then amplified it.” She scowled.

John frowned and looked over sympathetically to Harold who was twitching in his sleep, fingers in constant motion.

#

He didn’t know how it happened but the next thing he knew Harold was alone in the library. He sat in front of the monitors and watched the code scroll through all six of the screens.

He looked closer at the lines and saw that they were of his own design. Then he noticed that they began to alter on their own, The Machine was re-writing its own algorithms and he couldn’t follow its exponential growth, the knowledge was foreign to him.

All that he could understand was that it is was creating a program that was adhering to the nation's National Security Grid and was accessing the primary launch codes for deployment of Every Nuclear Weapon in the nation’s arsenal.

He stared in shock as he witnessed the countdown from 60 seconds. “No! no, no, no!” He cried and typed furiously trying to stop the nightmare that was on its way to destroying everything on the planet.

It was no use, the clock was ticking down, 30 seconds, and then the words from his creation came on the main screen as he stared in shock, I AM SORRY FATHER.  10 seconds… 5 seconds… 3, 2…

 #

He woke up screaming in agony to John holding him down on the bed, the pain in his hip and the rest of his body causing him to wretch. “Finch! Wake up! It’s only a dream,” John soothed.

“Harold? Harold wake up!” Shaw tried.

Finch opened his eyes but couldn’t answer, he couldn’t move, his body quaked as he struggled to breathe. His heartbeat pounded in his ears.

All three doctors, John and Root surrounded Harold as he gasped for breath.

John leaned into his line of vision, “Harold it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Finch knew that Reese was right, that he was trying to help, but that didn’t stop his heart from beating in his throat. He clenched his hands into fists, his whole body trembling.

“Harold your heart rate is too fast. You need to relax.” Shaw scolded as she to leaned over into his line of vision. After a few more moments of trying to get Harold to relax without success, Shaw gave up and grabbed a syringe off one of the trays.

“No!” Harold shouted, and ripped his arm out of Shaw’s grip.

Shaw’s brows furrowed.

John kept both hands on Finch’s shoulders, “Harold! Look at me!”

Harold looked at John but his breathing remained labored.

“Breathe,” John said with a smile. “In…” He took a deep breath through his nose, “And out…” He let it out through his mouth.

Harold mimicked John’s actions and started to calm down some. Slowly, the tightness in his shoulders eased, and the throbbing ache in his damaged hip faded a fraction as his muscles relaxed.

“Good.” John sighed and let go of Harold’s shoulders. He lifted a glass of water for Harold to drink.

“Thank you.” Harold breathed out shocked by the hoarseness of his own voice. “I’m sorry…” He laid his head back down onto the pillow. “Those attacks have been a common occurrence as of late.”

“I wonder why.” Shaw scoffed and moved over to look at the readings on the monitor.

“Harold, we have to talk about your hip.” Megan came over and sat on the side of the bed next to him. “None of us feel comfortable doing the surgery ourselves… but I know someone who is an orthopedic surgeon at my hospital who would be happy to do it.” She smiled, “He’s very good and I trust him.”

John spoke up when Harold gave him his “what do you think?” look,

“I checked him over personally. I think you’ll be in great hands.”

Root smiled, “ _She_ approves as well Harry.”

“Well, I guess there’s no question then.” Harold smiled slightly, “What about the heart problem you spoke of earlier?” He turned to Shaw.

“It looks like the medication isn’t working as well as we had hoped, so you’re looking at an ablation.” Shaw sighed. “Dr. Madani is a cardiologist so he’ll be able to do it. Megan and I will assist. It’s a minor non-invasive surgery. You won’t even be knocked out for it, we’ll just give you something to relax you a bit.”

Harold sighed. “Anything else?”

“We got your blood work back.” Shaw started. “Why didn’t you tell us about the withdrawal?”

Harold laughed, “Must have slipped my mind.”

John got a bemused sort of smirk on his face at Harold’s laugh.

But Shaw wasn’t impressed. “Harold if we had given you something that reacted with the drugs they gave you, it wouldn’t have been good.” She scowled, “Is there anything else I need to know?”

“I don’t think so Ms. Shaw.” Harold sighed and sunk further down into the bed.

“Okay. We’re going to get your heart fixed first and then we’ll deal with the hip.” Shaw said as she got up to leave the room. “We’ll do the ablation in an hour.”

It was quiet for a second until they could hear Bear whining behind the closed door.

John smiled and Shaw went over to open the door for the dog.

“Bear.” Harold smiled and patted the bed for the dog to come over, "Who's a good boy?"

Bear ran over and laid his head on Harold’s hand. Harold started to laugh quietly and everyone in the room smiled at seeing the man actually happy about anything.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wasn't going to post again so soon, but this chapter just has way too many cute moments to make you wait! Hope you enjoy!

Fusco brought over food about an hour later.

“How is he?” He asked John as he walked through the door.

“He’s… been better.” Reese sighed. “Thanks for covering for me with the captain… I have a feeling I’m going to be here for a while.” Reese took some of the take-out bags from Fusco’s hands, “He has to have a hip replacement. So, we’re going to keep him here.”

“Yeah, I told her you were throwin’ your guts up so you might want to have Megan write you a note.” Fusco sat down at the table, “So where’s glasses? I got a card for him.”

“You got him… a card Lionel?” Reese started laughing.

“Yeah smart guy, it’s funny!” Lionel lifted the card to show Reese.

“I’m sure it’s hilarious Fusco.” Reese scoffed. “He’s having a procedure done on his heart right now so it’ll have to wait.”

“Damn they messed up his heart?” Fusco gasped.

Just then Megan came into the room. “John, we need you in there.”

“What? For what? What’s wrong?” John asked nervously.

“He’s having another one of his attacks,” Megan said.

John ran into the operating room and saw Harold gasping for breath in the wheelchair.

He drew in short, hissing breaths and John could see he was trembling. His face was buried into his hands. 

John made his way over to Harold and kneeled in front of him. He set a hand on Harold’s shaking shoulder.

Harold’s breath hitched, and he looked up at John. His flushed face gleaming with a sheen of cold sweat, tears flowing freely down his cheeks as he gasped for breath..

“Hey.” John smiled. “Breathe for me, Finch.” He soothed.

Harold tried to take a deep breath in through his nose, he opened his mouth to speak but only a gasp came out.

He took another deep breath and tried again, “C…can’t...”

“Can’t what Harold?” John asked as he pushed back the sweaty hair from Harold’s forehead.

“The… table…” Harold choked out.

“Shaw, can we do this somewhere else?” Reese asked as he turned his attention to the doctors.

“No… this is the only room with radiology equipment.” She said with a frown.

“We could cover up the table with a blanket?” Dr. Madani added.

Reese looked to Harold who was seemingly starting to calm down by John’s presence. “Think you’ll be okay if they cover it up, Finch?”

“Can…try…” Harold rasped out.

Megan went outside and brought back in a big dark blue comforter from one of the spare rooms and set it onto the operating table that Finch would be laying on. “Okay, Finch. We’re going to move you now… are you all right?” Shaw asked.

“I… I believe so.” Harold gave a small anxious smile.

John and Shaw set to getting Harold onto the table and getting him situated.

Shaw stuck EKG patches to his chest and made sure the machine readings were working.

John moved to a position right next to Harold’s head and sat on a stool.

Megan lifted the Velcro straps to secure Harold onto the table and he started to have another attack, “No… no.” He croaked.

John looked at her and signaled with his eyes to leave the restraints off.

Megan and Dr. Madani laid the blue sterile paper over Harold and set some of the tubes and wires onto the tray next to the table.   

Shaw moved over to where only John could see her and showed him the syringe with a sedative in it to relax Harold.

John raised his eyebrows and looked back to Finch, “Harold. What’s your favorite tie?”

“What?” Harold replied confusedly.

“Oh, come on. You have hundreds of ties… you have to have a favorite.” John gave him a big toothy smile.

“Well… I don’t think I could possibly pick just one Mr. Reese.” Harold said the sounds of the operating room started to make him nervous again.

“Okay… top five then.” Reese smirked as he tried to distract Harold.

Shaw carefully moved over and injected the syringe into Harold’s IV line. He didn’t notice and John winked at Shaw.

“I suppose one of my favorites would have to be the one that Nathan got me when we started IFT together.” Harold swallowed, “It’s brown with dark black stripes… so simple… yet I’ve kept it all these years.” Harold smiled and looked like he was in deep thought.

Dr. Tillman came over and had a nasal cannula in her hands, “Harold, this is oxygen that’ll blow into your nose… sound okay?”

“Yes, doctor.” Harold smiled and scrunched his nose when she put it into place. “Oh. Another one of my favorites would be a very elegant pink and rose colored one that I wore on my first date with Grace.” Harold beamed, “She said the color made me look tan.”

Megan handed John a surgical mask. He took it with a smile and tied it around the back of his head. He smiled through the mask and raised his brow for Harold to keep going.

“Okay, Harold. You’re going to feel a little stick here. It’s just an anesthetic to numb the area.” Doctor Madani explained.

Harold clenched his eyes shut at the sharp needle stick in his leg, and continued to talk through the pain. “Another would probably be…” He paused and took a deep breath. Doctor Madani took out the needle and Harold relaxed a fraction. “My black and gray checkered bow-tie.” Harold smiled from ear to ear and sighed, “So… elegant.”

John started to laugh, “I never figured you for the black and white checkered kind of guy Finch.”

Harold looked at him and tried his best to look annoyed.

“Okay Harold, we’re ready to start.” Doctor Madani said as he moved closer into Harold’s line of vision.

Harold swallowed and took a breath, then nodded to the doctor. “Oh, and I mustn’t forget about my Dark blue and brown striped one.” Harold’s voice trembled a little bit as he looked down to see the doctor sticking a fairly large needle into his thigh.

“Harold.” John said as he tried to distract him again, “Why do you like that one so much?” He smiled.

Harold turned his attention back to his partner, “Dark blue and brown are my favorite colors.” Harold smiled.

“One more,” John said as he scooted his stool closer to Harold’s head. He tried to block off Harold’s vision of the doctor’s as best he could.

Harold could see his dimples and the crease on his cheeks that told him he was smiling under the mask.

“I suppose…” Harold thought for a moment, “My orange paisley patterned one.” He smiled.

John smiled and waited for an explanation and then it hit him. That was the one Finch wore when he went to Italy to bring John back after Carter died. “I like that one too,” John added with a smile.

“Okay Harold, you may feel a little bit of pressure in your groin area. But other than that, you shouldn’t feel anything. If you start to have any pain at all let us know.” Doctor Madani said.

Harold nodded, “Okay…”

John spoke up to get Harold’s attention away from the doctor inserting tubes and catheters into his leg, “What about your pocket squares?” He smiled.

#

“Okay, Harold we’re finished.” Doctor Madani said as he checked the screen showing Harold’s heart.

“Already?” Harold asked. “How long was that?”

“About two hours,” Shaw said.

“I… I didn’t even feel anything,” Harold whispered with a look of disbelief on his face.

“Well, that’s good.” John smiled.

Shaw pulled the blue sterile paper off Finch and fixed his hospital gown. “You’re going to feel tired for a while Finch. And you’ll probably have some discomfort in your chest but that’s normal.” 

John got up off his stool and got out of the way so that the doctors could clean up the area and get Harold onto a gurney to take him back to bed.

Harold looked to John with an expression of worry as soon as they rolled in the gurney.

“I’m right here Finch.” He smiled as he was propped up against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

They maneuvered Harold back into his room and got him situated in his bed. “You have to stay in bed for another 5-6 hours,” Shaw said as she fixed his IV line protruding from his arm.

“Wasn’t really planning on going anywhere Ms. Shaw.” Harold motioned to his hip and smirked.

“Okay smart ass.” She chuckled, “Keep your leg straight until I tell you that you don’t have to anymore.” She checked his heart rate and his blood pressure.

She grasped his shoulder right before she was about to leave, “Glad to have you back Finch.”

“And I’m glad to be back also Miss Shaw, thank you”

John entered the room right before Shaw left and smiled at the small show of affection from her. “Can he have visitors?” He started, “Fusco’s out there and I’m afraid if I leave him out there any longer we won’t have any take-out left.” He smirked.

“Sure.” Shaw laughed.

#

“Lionel. You have to be… careful with what you do and say.” Reese started as they walked towards Harold’s bedroom. “He gets… confused sometimes and he’s been having major panic attacks too.”

“What do you mean confused?” Fusco asked.

“He doesn’t know what’s real and what’s not sometimes. He’s getting better… but there’s still episodes.” Reese frowned, “He should be fine… but just so you know.” Reese added.

They made their way back to Harold’s room and John opened the door to let Fusco in.

Finch was lying in bed, with Doctor Madani checking his vitals.

He looked over to the door when Fusco and Reese came in, “Hello Detective.” Harold smiled and took a couple deep breaths per the doctor’s request.

“Hey, Professor,” Fusco smirked and he and John stayed by the door until the doctor was done.

“I’ll be in and out periodically Harold.” Doctor Madani said and started to leave the room.

“There’s take-out in the kitchen. Feel free to dig in.” Reese told the doctor as he walked out.

Fusco walked over to stand next to Harold. Reese sat a chair behind him so he could sit down. Reese grabbed another chair and brought it over as well and sat on the opposite side.

After a few minutes of silence and not really knowing what to say, “Lionel got you a card.” Reese said with a smart-ass smirk on his face.

Lionel scowled at Reese and then smiled to Finch, “Yeah. Here ya go… I saw it and it reminded me of you.”

“Well… Thank you very much, Detective.” Finch smiled and took the envelope from Lionel.

He opened it and took out the card that read “ _It’s 2016, ‘I’m not good with computers is no longer a valid excuse.’”_ Harold started to laugh and he showed John, who rolled his eyes but a small smile cracked out too.

“I love it detective, thank you.” Harold chuckled.

“Yeah, no problem. But I do have to get back to the precinct, so I’ll come by later to see ya glasses.” Fusco got up from his chair, “It’s good to have you back Finch. John here isn’t his usual jolly self when you’re not around.” He smiled and shook Harold’s hand. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Fusco left and Harold turned to John, “Shouldn’t you go eat? You must be famished.”

John sighed, “I’m fine.” He sat up in the chair with a grimace, the pain in his back from the bullet that entered it 4 days ago, had yet to go away.

Harold had a flashback to John getting shot and collapsing in his arms. He gasped and closed his eyes.

“Harold? What’s wrong?” John asked with concern.

“You… you got shot… are you okay?” He frowned. “Oh, my God. I’ve been back for almost a day and I haven’t even asked if you were okay.” Harold’s breath started to hitch.

“Hey, look at me.” John raised his voice, “I’m fine. Shaw fixed me up.” He stood up and twirled around, “See? Good as new.”

Harold gave a half-smile and let out a breath. “Okay.”

“Why don’t you try to get some rest; I won’t leave you, I’ll just sit here and read.”

“I’m not sure I can John.” He replied. “I’m scared to death that if I go to sleep I will wake up to find all of this has just been another simulation and that you won’t really be here.”

John touched Finch’s arm gently. “I’m real Harold, can you feel my touch?” He asked softly.

Harold nodded, “I’ll try John, I really am exhausted, just promise me that you won’t go anywhere.” He pleaded.

“I promise Harold,” John replied smiling.

Harold smiled back and closed his eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

“Mister Finch!” Harold was vaguely aware that someone was calling his name. The voice was familiar but it was so far away. “Mister Finch open your eyes!” The voice was much closer now; right on top him it seemed, he opened his eyes slowly.

Lambert stood over him and the doctor in green scrubs was positioned at his feet.

Finch was horrified as Lambert raised a syringe; with a very large needle, in front of him.

Harold gasped in fear and tried to move but discovered that he was strapped down to a table, and the fraction of movement he was able to make only sent pain through his hip and neck.

“See now, fighting will get you nowhere.” Lambert grinned menacingly. “I’ll ask you once more or you will be joining Mister Reese in the afterlife, where is your machine?”

Harold couldn’t respond, it was as if he had lost the ability to speak at the horror of Lambert’s statement, _John isn’t dead! He was just here!_ He cried in his mind but the words still did not present themselves, he was struck mute. “All right Mister Finch, have it your way.” He then he plunged the needle straight through Harold’s sternum and into his heart.

Harold screamed in agony as he felt the pressure enter the life-giving organ. “Doctor proceed,” Lambert ordered as he pulled the needle out of Harold’s chest.

He felt a sudden uncomfortable heat flow through his veins and then he truly couldn’t move.

Greer watched from the adjoining room through the large window with amusement as the doctor went about the business of taking Harold’s bad leg, at the foot, in his hands.

Harold felt the intense pain creep into his lower limb once again as the doctor slowly began to twist his leg awkwardly. Sweat poured from him as the anguish made its way to his hip.

He couldn’t see what was being done but every pain receptor in his limb cried out in anguish. He screamed again; louder this time, the only sound that he could seem to make and felt awareness leaving his tortured mind and then he felt darkness overtake him.

#

A few hours later, Harold sat up suddenly out of sleep with a gasp. John was only dozing in the chair and jerked awake immediately.

Harold rubbed at his face. He couldn’t _breathe._

John saw the heaving of Harold’s chest rising and falling quickly as he tried to control his breathing.

Harold frantically looked around the room. Twisting his neck farther than it should.

Something that made John cringe because Harold would most definitely regret that action later.

John stood up and moved closer to Harold. “Easy Finch.” His hands found Harold’s shoulders and he eased him down into the bed. “Do I need to get one of the doctors?”

Harold didn’t trust his voice so he just shook his head no. His chest felt rigid and tight. His heart wouldn’t quit hammering at the base of his throat.

“Okay well, I need you to relax then Harold.” John put his hand on Harold’s cheek, “You’re okay.” He smiled and Harold’s chest loosened some. His breathing slowed and he could feel himself start to relax.

“I’m s… sorry.” Harold breathed out, “I really don’t know why… this keeps happening.” His ragged breathing loud in the silence. “You must think this… is quite… ridiculous.”

“No, Harold, I find this very human and understandable,” Reese said. “How could you… I would never think that Harold.” Reese continued and he sounded… hurt.

Harold closed his eyes and sighed. The last thing he needed to do right now was to alienate John. “I apologize.” He started.

“Don’t,” John said with a smile. “I’ll go get you a drink. Think you’ll be okay?”

“I… Think so, just please hurry,” Harold whispered he ignored the panic that rose in his chest as Reese moved toward the door.

#

Reese made his way out to the kitchen to find Shaw and Root. Root was asleep on the couch and Shaw was at the fridge getting a soda.

John went over and put some water in one of Harold’s favorite tea cups and put it in the microwave. He grabbed a box of sencha down from the cupboard.

“Next time he gets like that, you need to come get me.” Shaw scolded and shut the fridge door.

“Why? So you can just shoot him up with drugs to knock him out?” Reese set the box down on the counter with a little extra force. “He spent four days in hell. Which included getting injected with God knows what. I can’t possibly imagine why he would get nervous whenever you get near him with a syringe.” Reese remarked. “Use your damn head, you heard what he told us and saw the needle tracks yourself!”

“What are we supposed to do John? We can’t just sit around and let him have a heart attack.” She said with a lot more sympathy than Reese expected.

“Just… let me handle it. He calms down whenever I’m there…” John sighed and put one of the tea bags into the cup.

“And when you’re not here?” Shaw asked as she grabbed Reese’s arm before he could make his way back into the bedroom.

“We’ll figure that out when we have to,” John said after a long pause.

“Fine. The surgeon is coming tomorrow morning. So, try to get him to sleep… please.” Shaw asked… and whispered the last word.

John made his way back down to Harold’s room. He passed two guest rooms with their doors closed, Dr. Madani and Megan, close enough to Harold’s room just in case anything went wrong.

“We didn’t have any sencha… so I brought you black chai.” Reese said and extended the cup to Harold.

“Oh… no, thank you then…” Harold stopped when he saw the smirk on Reese’s face, “Oh very funny.”

Harold grabbed the tea and took a sip.

“Shaw said the surgeon is coming in the morning for your hip.” John breathed out and sat down in the chair again.

Harold smirked and his brows raised, “Do you really think this is a good idea?”

“What do you mean?” John questioned.

“Only the paranoid survive Mr. Reese,” Harold smirked and took a sip of his tea.

“Don’t worry Harold.” John smiled. “If your AI brainchild likes him, then he should be fine.”

“I suppose…” Harold yawned.

“Now get some sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up. Promise.” John smiled and took the cup of tea from Harold and set it on the bedside table.

“Fine…” Harold sighed and slipped into a nightmare free slumber for the first time since he had been back.

#

The doctor arrived at about 9 am the next morning with Megan.

Shaw heard a knock at the door and she went over to look through the peep-hole. Megan waved and Shaw unlocked the door.

“Sameen.” Megan smiled, “This is Doctor Murray.”

The taller man with light brown hair smiled and extended his hand for Shaw. “Please just call me Justin.”

“Hi, Justin.” Shaw smirked, “I’m Shaw. Harold’s in the back. Let me go make sure he’s awake and then I’ll come get you guys.” She left and went to Harold’s room.

She entered to see Harold sleeping with Bear at his legs, something she would not have approved but John must have snuck him in after Madani finished his morning check-up a couple of hours ago.

John was sleeping in the chair next to Harold’s bed.

She walked over and smacked the side of John’s head. “Get up.”

John groggily glared at her and sat up in his chair.

“Harold...” Shaw nudged his arm. “Wake up sleeping beauty.”

Harold groaned and mumbled until he finally opened his eyes. “Someone’s not a morning person.” Shaw scoffed. “The surgeon is here Finch; I’m going to bring him in. So, rise and shine.”

Shaw left and Harold sat up, wincing at the pain that shot through his hip.

Reese grabbed his glasses off the end table and handed them to Harold.

“Thank you,” Harold said, his voice gravelly.

The door opened and in came the three doctors.

“Where’s Doctor Madani?” John asked.

“He had to go back to his hospital for a while, he’ll be back.” Megan replied, “Harold, this is Doctor Justin Murray. He’ll be doing your hip operation.”

“Hello.” Harold smiled and offered his hand.

“Very nice to meet your Harold. I haven’t been told much but Megan has shown me your x-rays and told me about your past surgeries. So, I feel pretty up to speed.”

Harold cleared his throat, “So… when are you going to do it?”

“Well by the looks of your x-ray, we should have done it 3 days ago, but today should work.” The doctor smiled, “If you don’t mind I’d like to do a quick exam. And then I’ll want to see this operating room Megan tells me about.”

“Of course,” Harold said. “Let’s get to it then shall we.” Harold fidgeted uncomfortably in the bed.

“I think Megan and I are going to go make some coffee for everyone.” Shaw noticed Harold’s uncomfortableness and left the room with Megan.

The doctor stood up and John cleared his throat, “Before you get started, do you mind if I speak with you for a minute?”

“Oh of course.” Dr. Murray answered with a smile and followed John out into the hallway.

“Well, I’m not sure if Megan had informed you of the… situation.” John started but was interrupted by the doctor lifting his hand.

“She hasn’t told me everything, but by what she did tell me I understand he’s had a rough go of it recently. And I also know that Megan could have chosen at least 20 different surgeons that she knows… but she chose me. I believe that it was because I have a background in psychology as well.”

John opened his mouth to speak but Justin stopped him again, “And no I’m not here to be his therapist. I’m here to fix his hip, that’s all.” He smiled, “But if he ever needs to talk, I’ll be there. And I also know how to handle people with PTSD which is why you brought me out here in the first place.” 

John just smirked.

“Let’s go back in, shall we?”

He and John entered the room again and John sat down next to Harold’s bed out of the way.

The doctor walked over to the sink, “Okay Harold, let’s get the blankets off so I can get a look at your hip…” He started to wash his hands and put a pair of latex gloves on.

Harold threw them off to the side. The doctor walked over to his bad hip and knelt, “All right, I’m gonna move your gown out of the way okay?”

Harold nodded.

The doctor poked and prodded Harold’s hip for a few moments and then started to ask him questions like if he could feel this or that and how bad the pain was.

“Okay. You can relax now.” Murray took off his gloves and tossed them in the trash. “I’m going to go check out this state of the art operation room I’ve heard about.” He chuckled, “How does about 2-3 hours sound for the surgery?”

Harold’s eyes widened and both John and Doctor Murray could tell he was nervous.

“I know it’s soon Harold but it’s like a band-aid. Quick and painless.” Murray smiled and left the room.

Harold looked to John and sighed, “Well…”

“You’ll be fine Harold.” John smiled.

#

Harold felt like he was going to throw-up from the moment the doctor told him it would be in a couple of hours. He started to feel restless, the palms of his hands began to sweat.

It only got worse when they came in to get him ready.

Tillman and Shaw came in with a wheelchair. “Ready Finch?” Shaw asked.

Harold took a deep shaky breath in and then let out. “No.” He sighed, “But let’s just get it over with.”

John helped Shaw get him into the wheelchair and they rolled him down the hallway into the operating room.

His breath quickened with each step they moved.

Once they entered the room, Harold’s breath stuck in his throat.

He saw the doctor standing there in bright green scrubs, waiting by the operating table.

And suddenly he was captured again. Greer was standing in the next room. John was dead and he was going to be forced into another hellish simulation.

Finch closed his eyes, swallowed hard. He couldn’t breathe.

His heart thumped in his chest so loud that he figured the others could hear it. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t talk. Couldn’t do anything except hyperventilate.

His head pounded and the room started to spin, he felt as if he were going to pass out.

He shook violently, not able to focus on anything, everything was turning into a blur.

He sensed someone walk over beside him.

_John._

He flinched when John put his hand on his shoulder.

His eyes clenched tight when John took his hand.

“Harold.” He said, “ _Harold.”_ He said again, this time with a little frustration added. “Look at me.”

Harold pried his eyes open and looked into his partner’s bright blue irises.

John put Harold’s hand on his own cheek, “I’m here.”

Harold still couldn’t control his ragged breathing and John put his hand back down, “What do you need?” He asked, concern encompassing his every word.

“I… c… can’t… do this.” Harold choked out.

John smiled, “Yes you can Finch.”

Harold looked at him, the tears in his eyes blurring his vision.

“You’re the toughest SOB I know Finch. If anyone can do this… it’s you.” John smirked again. “Remember when we were on our way back from Italy? After Joss died?” John asked.

Harold swallowed hard and nodded. 

“You said something to me.” John smiled, “You said that everything was going to be all right. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But eventually.”

Harold drew in a long raspy breath, closed his eyes, and paused for a moment.

He thought about that day.

_He and John had just landed in New York and were driving back to the library; they passed the eighth precinct and John broke down. He pulled the car over and pulled John close,_

_“Mr. Reese, I realize that you won’t appreciate this right now… but things get better. Everything is going to be all right. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But eventually.”_

Harold cleared his throat and nodded for them to continue.

“There you go.” John smiled and looked at the doctors.

Shaw and Doctor Murray got Harold onto the operating table. John got up and moved over next to him,

“Are you going to… stay here?” Harold asked, his eyes huge and frightened.

“I don’t think I can Finch…” John sighed.

“Yes, you can.” Doctor Murray said with a smirk and a wink.

Harold breathed out a sigh of relief and closed his eyes.

Shaw came over next to him, “Finch…”

He opened his eyes. 

“We’re going to put you to sleep now, okay?” She gave him a warm smile.

His eye’s closed and he let out a trembling breath, “Okay.” He looked at John, “You’ll be here, the whole time?”

“You have my word.” John smiled. “I’ll see you when you wake up.”

Harold took another deep breath and turned and nodded his head to Shaw who was waiting next to him with a syringe.

John’s word meant more to him than anything. So, he could try and relax.

Shaw smiled at him and injected the sedative into his IV.

“Countdown from 10 for me Harold,” Shaw said as she set the needle back down onto the tray.

“Ten… Nine… Eight… Ssseevven…” His eyes went half-lidded and then they fluttered shut.

John took a long look at his partner until Murray walked over and handed him a scrub cap and scrubs.

“Go wash up.” He smiled, “Don’t want him to get an infection. You can sit at his head... if you start to feel sick or anything make sure you get out.”

John chuckled, “I think I’ll be fine.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting. I'm sick and haven't had the chance to post. But here it is!

John sat at Harold’s head and watched. He didn’t say anything, just stayed quiet and let the doctors work.

He did have to look away when they removed the damaged pins and screws and when they had to cut the bone. Normally sights such as this wouldn’t have bothered him but this was Finch, so it bothered him a great deal.

Shaw scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“O-kay…” Murray said and put down the surgical staple gun. “We’re done. Let’s get an x-ray. And we’ll keep him in here for a while; it’s more sterile than his room.”

John got up and moved out of the way when Megan and Shaw got the portable x-ray machine ready.

Doctor Murray took off his gloves and mask and tossed them in the garbage, “It went well, John.” He answered John’s worried look.

“Did waiting so long make it worse?” John asked.

“Look, either way, with his previous injuries I wouldn’t have been able to save his hip. So no matter what, he would have had a full replacement.”

John frowned.

“He’ll be running circles around you in a couple of months.” Murray smiled and patted John on the shoulder. “Don’t worry.”

They went back over to the others where Shaw was putting away the x-ray machine. “Okay let’s get him over to the gurney and then we’ll wake him up.”

#

Harold woke up groggy and dazed, he wasn’t really able to do anything. He was just so out of it. Wherever he was, it was quiet except for a faint, rhythmic beeping. He wrinkled his nostrils. Something was softly blowing warm air into his nose.

He started to wake up more and he opened his eyes to see John and the doctors standing over him.

John smiled at him with his big toothy smile and Finch knew he was safe.

Harold’s face broke out into a pained expression and he groaned.

“I think that’s asking for more morphine.” Shaw laughed.

Murray leaned into Harold’s sight, “Harold can you wiggle your toes for me?”

Harold sighed in pain and cracked his eyes open a bit to look at him, then wiggled his toes.

“Good.” Murray smiled. “The surgery went well Harold. You’ll be up and around in no time.”

Harold gave a pained smile, “Thank you.”

“How’s your pain 1-10?” Doctor Tillman asked.

“Not too bad.” Harold rasped and cleared his throat, “Probably a six.” Harold blinked to clear the fogginess.

“Okay. You’re still hooked up to this PCA pump so whenever you feel you need it, just press it.” Tillman said. “Do you want a little extra right now?”

Harold smiled and nodded his head no.

Doctor Murray noticed that John had moved out of the way so that the doctors could ask their questions and go over things with their patient but watched intently, “All right, we’re going to go look at your x-rays, Harold. If you need anything just let us know.”

The doctors left and John moved over to his partner in the bed, “Hey.” He smiled.

Harold turned his attention to the younger man and smirked, “Hello Mr. Reese.”

“Do you want water or anything?” John asked with concern.

“That would be very much appreciated.” Harold sighed.

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” John said and got up and Harold could have sworn he was limping.

Harold’s eyes started to get heavy and he could feel the sea of morphine start to take him away… he couldn’t hold it off anymore and the drug pulled him back under…

#

Harold could hear shuffling and movement around him but couldn’t quite open his eyes for some reason.

He heard a jumble of voices and started to panic at their cadence; they sounded angry and he couldn’t figure out what the conversation was about. Then he heard a drill turn on and he immediately felt his blood pressure rise.

Suddenly he was able to open his eyes and saw Greer looming over him and grinning wickedly. He peered around the room and to his shock, he saw John bound with two shackles that hung from one of the walls. He was stretched wide at the shoulders, naked from the chest up and already had blood dripping from a previous wound on his pectoral muscle.

John was panting from the pain already inflicted on him and then made eye contact with Harold.

He couldn’t move or say anything as he watched in horror at Lambert standing next to John with the power drill in his hands.

“Continue Mister Lambert; Mister Finch can watch,” Greer ordered happily.

Lambert powered up the machine and drew it close to John’s abdomen, towards John’s already existing scar he obtained on the rooftop from Snow’s man.

John looked at Harold with such courage and resolve it made him flinch at the thought that he was being put through this torture because of him. John stood up straight and smiled at him as Lambert got closer with the drill. 

Harold was finally able to let out a scream of torment as John was stoically and silently enduring the drill bit entering just under his rib cage. The blood that sprang from the wound spurted out like a fountain as Harold’s screams of horror finally brought him back into consciousness.

#

He woke up in terror and found that he couldn’t breathe.

John was there in an instant and took his hand in his and looked him in his eyes as he gasped for air.

“Finch! Calm down, I’ve got you, look at me.”

Harold’s eyes were streaming tears and at last, he focused on John’s face and began to regulate his breathing.

Reese gently put his hands on Finch’s upper arms, “You okay?” He asked.

Harold looked around and then noticed that the doctors had entered the room during his attack.

“I… I think so.” He rasped, slowly calming himself.

John handed him a glass of water and Finch gratefully took it and drank some.

John turned and acknowledged the doctors and Shaw motioned for him to meet her outside the room. “I’ll be right back Harold. Megan will stay in here with you. Is that all right?” Reese asked.

“Yes, I think that should be fine,” Harold replied with a half-grin.

Megan walked over to Harold with a smile and the others left to go out into the hallway.

“What is it?” John asked, annoyed.

“He needs to talk to someone.” Shaw started, “This can’t keep happening.”

John scowled to Murray, “I thought you weren’t here to be his therapist.”

Murray put his hands up in defense and Shaw interrupted, “John, he didn’t say anything about it. It’s my opinion.”

John sighed and placed his hand over his eyes, “Sorry.” He started, “Just… let me talk to him. See what I can do. If that doesn’t work, you can try.”

John had started to sweat and as he turned away to go back into the room with Harold, a searing hot pain jolted through his leg and it buckled underneath him.

He caught himself on the wall to hold himself up but it wasn’t enough because a few seconds later he was on the ground groaning in pain.

“Reese? What the hell?” Shaw moved over quickly to where John had fallen to the floor and fell to two knees beside him. “What is it?” She prodded.

He pointed to his leg and she grabbed a pair of scissors off one of the tables in the hallway and cut a slit through John’s pants.

She sighed at the sight of John’s infected leg where the bullet had entered when they rescued Harold. “How long?” She asked knowing that he had to have had pain before this and just not told them. 

“Since this morning.” He groaned out. “I didn’t think it was anything… You guys needed to focus on Finch.” He winced slightly in pain at Shaw’s touch.

Shaw and Murray slipped their arms around his neck and helped him to the couch.

“I have to get back to Finch.” He grated.

“His immune system is taxed right now, John,” Murray replied and propped John’s leg up with a couple of pillows. “You can’t go back in there until we get this under control.”

John gave a frustrated sigh and put his arm over his face.

Shaw grabbed a thermometer and stuck it into John’s ear and pulled it out when it beeped.

“100.2.” She started. “Not too bad. But I’m not letting you in there until it’s down to 99 at least.”

He sighed again.

“And we’re going to have to clean it out… we’ll start you on an antibiotic too.” She got up from the couch and started towards Harold’s room. “I’ll let Finch know.”

#

“Ms. Shaw, what’s wrong? I heard a commotion?” Harold asked worriedly as he sat up in bed.

“Harold, Reese has a pretty bad infection in his leg from where he was shot.” She started but stopped when she saw the look of absolute horror on Harold’s face.

“He was what?!” He gasped.

His breathing started to speed up again,

“Harold I need you to calm down,” Shaw said.

“Is he okay? Where is he? I need to see him.” Harold breathed out.

“We can’t let him in here right now Finch. Your immune system isn’t as good as it should be right now right after surgery.” She frowned.

Finch’s eyes squeezed shut, his hands clenched into fists, then relaxed, then clenched again.

He’s saying in his head repeatedly that this isn’t a simulation and John is just out in the living room. But he couldn’t convince himself, he began to go into a full blown panic attack.

Shaw suddenly got an idea, “Hold on Finch, just try to breathe slowly.”

#

Doctor Murray was cleaning out John’s bullet wound while John laid there and stared at the ceiling.

“So. How long have you known Harold?” Murray asked as he set down the antiseptic.

John looked down at him with questioning eyes but finally answered, “About 4 years.” He winced when Murray started to scrub away the infected tissue.

“I can go get lidocaine…” Murray started but stopped when John scoffed. “Okay…” He turned his attention back to the wound, “So… how did you meet?”

John laughed a little, “Long story.” His expression changed to something more… sincere, “He helped me get back on my feet. We started working together and pretty soon we got to be really good friends.”

“That’s nice…” Murray was interrupted when Shaw came into the room and tossed a phone to Reese.

“I’m going to face chat you so you can talk to him. He’s starting to panic again because you’re not there.” Before John could even answer, Shaw was gone and in the other room with Harold again.

John looked at Murray with his brows furrowed and then the phone started to ring.

John slid the lock screen over and there was Harold.

“Hey, Finch. I’m fine, don’t worry… Looks like Doctor Murray here is patching up both of us.” Reese winked.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were shot, Mr. Reese?” Harold asked, he sounded out of breath.

“Because you had other things on your mind, Harold.” John started, “But I should have told you and I’m sorry.” John gave an encouraging smile and noticed that Harold’s body started to relax, unclenching inch by tender inch. “Listen, you get some rest. I promise I’ll be fine and when you wake up I’ll be back in there.”

Harold yawned, “I suppose…I could try.”

“Night Harold.” John smiled but turned his attention away from the phone for a second and Harold could hear a voice in the background, “Hey Finch, Root is going to come see you for a little okay?”

Harold smiled and nodded, “Okay Mr. Reese.” And he handed the phone back to Shaw.

John hung up and set the phone down on his chest. He didn’t even realize it but Murray was already finished cleaning up his leg and was placing gauze and tape over it.

“Didn’t think I was that good eh?” Murray smirked.

#

Root entered the room right after Harold hung up the phone with John.

“Hey, Harry.” She smiled as she came through the door.

“Hello, Ms. Groves.” Harold smiled back.

“How ya feelin’?” She asked as she sat down next to his bed.

“Oh, just a little tired.” He sighed.

He tried in vain to hide all the fear and panic he felt almost constantly, but he wasn’t fooling any of them.

Root smiled and patted him on the leg, “The machine has something for you, Harold.” She handed him a tablet with a smile, “Just something to help with…” She paused and cleared her throat, “The nightmares.”

Harold’s brow furrowed until the tablet screen turned on. Then images and videos started to roll across the screen – dates and camera credentials in the corners.

It was a video of him and Grace. Harold talking to her peering over an easel with an ice cream cone in his hand.

Root noticed that Harold’s attention was engrossed on the screen and he started to get choked up, so she patted him on the shoulder, “I’m glad you’re back Harold.” And left.

The next thing that popped up on the screen was Harold and Grace in a coffee shop. She’s sitting at the bar on a stool and Harold is standing next to her, staring at her with a fondness he never knew he could show.

Then there they are in the art museum. Harold leads Grace back to a wall with a painting she loved as a young art student hanging from it.

The next is Harold and Grace through a webcam sitting on a couch until they turn to look at each other. After seconds, what in the moment felt like hours, Harold kisses her and gently leads her down onto the couch.

Then there’s a faraway view of Harold handing Grace a book in the park just before he gets down on one knee.

The flood of tears came at the sweet visual reminders of the woman he still loves to this day and he wept fondly and sadly at them, but accepted all of them as the gifts they were meant to be.

Then another video came on the screen that Finch didn’t recognize, but he soon realized that it was a live feed of Grace in Italy. She was sitting outside at a park, painting a landscape.

He smiled through the tears and whispered, “Thank you.”

He fell asleep with the tablet sitting on his chest and the live stream of Grace painting, still on the screen.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's on the shorter end. Hope ya enjoy!

Shaw came out into the living room shortly after Harold had fallen asleep.

John was lying on the couch with his leg propped up on some pillows and Root was making some food in the kitchen. Murray was sitting in a chair next to the couch that John was on, occasionally striking up a conversation with John.

“Harold’s asleep. Megan’s going to stay in there with him in case he has a nightmare.”

John breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Can I go back in yet?”

Murray got out of the chair and grabbed the thermometer and put it into John’s ear,

“I doubt it’s went down any…” Shaw scoffed.

“99.4” Murray said as he took it out when it beeped.

John’s eyebrows raised at her and he smirked, “So I can go in, right?”

Shaw rolled her eyes, “Just wait until we get him back in his room.” She walked over and grabbed a water out of the refrigerator, “We’ll move him back in about a half hour.”

John sighed, “Fine.” He went to get up from the couch but as soon as he took a step, he fell back onto the couch.

Shaw rolled her eyes again and went into one of the closets they kept medical equipment in. She brought back a pair of crutches and handed them to John.

He glared at her and scoffed.

“Take them or I’ll hurt more than just your leg.” She scowled.

Murray started to laugh and made his way back to the operating room, “I think I’ll go check on Harold… Wouldn’t want to get caught in the crossfire.” He chuckled.

Reese reluctantly grabbed the crutches from Shaw and went into the kitchen. “What are you making?” He asked Root.

“Eggs benedict.” She continued cooking, “Harry’s favorite.”

Reese smiled.

Root and Harold had become much closer since Root joined the team. Reese always looked at it like a father and daughter type of relationship. She would never show it, but this was bothering Root as much as it was everyone else.

Reese found it strikingly ironic how just a couple of years ago, Root was actually the one who was holding Harold captive. And the same amount of time ago, John would have put a bullet in her head without thinking twice about it.

He grabbed an apple and a bottle of water out of the fridge and sat down at the kitchen table.

“I think he’ll like that,” Reese told Root with a smile. He appreciated the sentiment that she showed.

Root turned around from the stove and gave a half-smile in return, “I hope he has the appetite for it, you know that his appetite has really gone down to nothing since we got him back.” She replied concerned.

“I know, it’s bothering me too,” Reese answered solemnly.

#

Harold woke up the next morning back in his room. His hip ached like crazy and he groaned and immediately pressed the pain button.

He looked over to his side and John was sitting in the chair next to him quietly reading a book. He looked up from his book and smiled, “Hey Finch.” He remarked nonchalantly.

“Mr. Reese.” Harold nodded. “How long have I been asleep?”

“You slept through the night. It’s 8:50 am.” John smiled, “That’s a good thing, Harold.”

“Yes… yes, I suppose it is.” Harold smiled.

He didn’t tell John that the four days he was with Samaritan he never slept. Other than the times they sedated him of course. But those didn’t really count.  
“How’s your leg, Mr. Reese?” Harold asked.

“Just fine Finch.” John smiled.

Root came into the room a little later with a plate and cup of tea. “Breakfast time Harry.”

Harold smiled and his mouth started to water involuntarily at the smell of the food. “Oh, Ms. Groves it smells wonderful.”

“Tastes wonderful too Finch.” John smiled and sat up in his chair.

“Yeah, you fell asleep last night so the big lug here got to eat what I made.” Root laughed and sat the plate down onto Finch’s table tray. “Eggs Benedict garnished with cherry tomatoes. You’re favorite.”

“Thank you.” Harold smiled, “But while it looks delicious, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to eat it at the moment, Ms. Groves… I’m not feeling the greatest. Please don’t be upset with me.” Harold frowned.

“How could I ever be upset with you, Harry? I understand I should have checked with you first.” She replied and smiled.

He didn’t tell them that the only thing they fed him while he was being held by Samaritan was a few apple slices and a slice of bread that they would give him once a day. _Quite an interesting idea of nourishment_ , he remembered thinking at the time. His stomach had shrunk and he had lost quite a bit of weight from the small amount of food he was given.

Just then Doctor Murray and Shaw walked in through the door. “Good morning Harold.” Doctor Murray said and sat down next to the bed. “We’re going to get your hip moving a little today, okay?”

Harold groaned. He was all too familiar with how this type of rehab went. It was grueling and painful and brought out the worst in him. He went through five physical therapists after the ferry bombing, firing all of them and eventually giving up.

Given, he didn’t have a broken spine to go along with his hip this time, but it was still going to be a long, hard ordeal.

“All right.” Harold sighed, he didn’t want to put up a fuss so he gave in.

John moved the tray table with Harold’s untouched food away from the bedside to get it out of the way.

“It’s only the first day, so we’ll go easy on you. We’ll probably just get you up on your feet but no walking yet and some exercises you can do in bed. So, nothing too bad.” Murray winked at him.

“Do you want us to leave Harold?” Shaw asked.

“No…” Harold started, “You’re more than welcome to stay.” He finished. He didn’t say ‘Because if you leave, I don’t believe you’ll come back.’ He was still having trouble with the idea that all of this happening around him was real.

Murray got up and moved over to the spot by the head of Harold’s bed, “Okay, let’s put your bed flat. Ready?”

Harold nodded and Murray pressed the button to lower the head of the bed. “Rate your pain for me Harold, one to ten.”

“Five.” Harold breathed out.

“Okay if it gets any worse let us know.” Murray pulled up a stool next to the bed at Harold’s feet. “Okay, these are gonna hurt. The first movements are always the worst but it gets easier.”

Harold breathed out and tried to smile. He knew the routine and was feeling anxious. “Let’s just get it over with, shall we?”


	12. Chapter 12

Once they had gotten Harold on his feet, he started to feel light-headed and sick.

Side-effects from the medication and not having any food in his stomach, causing them to stop for the day.

“Okay let’s get you back in bed,” Murray said sympathetically when Harold almost lost what little bit of contents he had in his stomach.

Once they had Harold back in bed, situated with all the blankets and wires and IV lines, Murray stood back a bit, “We’ll try again later tonight. Do you want some medicine to help with your stomach?”

“That would be appreciated.” Harold smiled and sank further into his pillows.

Murray and Shaw set to getting Harold comfortable and once they were done, they left along with Root in tow. “We’ll be right out here if you need anything, Harry.” She offered.

“Thank you, Miss Groves, my thanks to all of you.” He nodded at them as they left the room.

They had all agreed last night that John would talk to Harold today about what was happening to him emotionally and that this seemed like it would be the best time to approach the subject.

John looked at Harold who was concentrating on his breathing.

“You okay Finch?” He asked.

“Yes, Mr. Reese… just a little queasy.” Harold answered.

“That’s not what I meant…” John sighed, he was deeply concerned with how distant Harold seemed since they got him back.

Harold just gave him a questioning look…

“You haven’t eaten, you’ve barely slept, you look at all of us like we’re going to disappear any minute…” John sighed again, “What’s going on Finch?”

Harold looked straight ahead and kept his mouth shut.

“I haven’t pushed you to talk about it because you’ve only been back a couple days… but you need to talk about it.” John set his hand on Harold’s arm.

“Oh, and _you_ would know wouldn’t you!?” Harold snapped back. It was petty and senseless, and he almost covered his mouth with his hands after the words flew out. How could John know what they did to him, how could he blame him? But he couldn’t stop more from spilling out, “They told me you were dead. Put me through so many simulations I had no idea what was real and what was them tampering with my brain… I still don’t….” Harold trailed off and went quiet. John lowered his head and let out a long deep sigh.

Harold wanted to say something. To say that he was sorry. That he messed up. But now he couldn’t talk. Words escaped him.

John looked at him sadly.  “I’m real Harold.”  He didn’t know what to do to convince him, maybe someone else could think of something. He stood up and turned towards the door…

Finally, Harold was able to choke out, “John, don’t -” his breath suddenly coming short.

“Okay, easy, Harold,” John soothed. He made his way back over to the bed and sat on the edge close to Harold, “Calm down I’m here.” His voice soft and concerned, “Do you want me to get Murray or Shaw?”

Harold shook his head no.

“Anything I can do?” John asked. Harold shook his head again. Bear appeared from nowhere and trotted over to rest his jaw on Harold’s knee.

“I… I apologize…I’m being unreasonable.” Harold breathed out, finally able to catch his breath again.

“No need Finch. I shouldn’t have brought it up so soon…” John started, “But you are going to have to talk about it, Harold… it really does help.” John smiled.

“All right…” Harold began, “But just… not right now. Okay?” He pleaded nervously.

“Okay Finch…when you’re ready, and not before.” John smiled sadly and gave in. He wasn’t going to make Harold any more upset at the moment than he already had.

Harold suddenly felt very tired, exhaustion seemed to overtake him but he didn’t want John to leave him alone.

“So, how did the machine help you locate me?” Harold asked with a small smile, trying to change the subject and give them some conversation. He closed his eyes and waited for John’s reply but it didn’t come.

“John?” He asked and when he opened his eyes he was alone in a different room and a different bed. He was confused and afraid. It was as if he moved through time and space back to… the room of his nightmares, he realized suddenly.

He began to panic again, the room was stark, with nothing in it except the bed, a computer monitor, a clock on the wall that read 2:15 pm and a rolling hospital tray that sat in the corner of the room.

He couldn’t see what it was but there was something on it. He couldn’t care less what was on it he was beginning to hyperventilate. His breathing was getting out of control. He knew he had to calm himself down but didn’t know if he could. He had to concentrate!

He forced himself to lie flat in the bed and he closed his eyes and slowly began to recite the digits of pi to himself, which always worked before when he had to slow his thinking down. It began to work on his breathing now.

He calmed down enough to realize that when he opened his eyes again, time had seemed to advance. The room was the same but now the clock read 4:24 am. He was confused again.

He was thirsty and dehydrated too and the noises that came from his stomach indicated that he was hungry as well. He sat upright and peered over at the rolling cart, looking for something to drink or to eat. Then he saw what lay on the tray. It was a plate that held a piece of bread and three brown oxidized apple slices.

It’s then that he determined that he was going out of his mind, he started to laugh at himself.

His father had developed dementia when he was fairly young, maybe it was happening to him now. He ran his hands over his face and the stubble he found there was days old.

_I’m definitely losing my mind,_ he thought to himself and laughed again. Then he couldn’t seem to help himself, he couldn’t stop the laughter from coming from somewhere inside that he couldn’t control.

Then the laughter turned to tears and he and laid back down on the bed and squeezed his eyes shut at the thoughts of insanity that invaded his mind.

#

“Harold? Harold, are you okay?” John was by his side trying to get his attention. The man was sobbing uncontrollably and he seemed as though he wouldn’t wake up. “Harold!”

John couldn’t get Harold to acknowledge him, so he limped outside as fast as he could into the hallway to get the doctors. “Shaw! Something’s wrong, he won’t wake up!”

“He what?!” Shaw yelled and ran into the bedroom with Murray and Tillman.

All the doctors and Root and John went back into the bedroom.

Harold was whimpering in bed, clutching at his head…

“Harold? What is it?” Tillman asked as she moved toward the bed.

“Head… hurts.” He groaned and kept clutching at his head.

Tillman looked to the rest of them with a worried look.

Shaw and Murray moved in closer to Harold. “Harold, you have to put your hands down, let’s take a look,” Shaw said and grasped Harold’s hands and then he allowed her to pull them down to his side. “What’s the pain like Finch?”

“Shhhhh… arrp…” Finch trembled.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head and his body started to shake and shudder violently. 

“What the hell! Shaw what is it?!” Reese yelled from his position behind the doctors.

“Root…” Shaw looked at Root who had a terrified look on her face, but she understood Shaw’s unspoken demand.

Root grabbed John by the arm and tried to lead him out of the room,

“Like hell!” He yelled again.

This time Shaw let Tillman and Murray tend to Harold and went over to Reese, “Do you want us to fix him or do you want us to sit here and hold your hand like a child and walk you through everything while he suffers!?” Shaw said angrily.

John glared at her and then looked back at Harold whose body had stopped shaking thanks to the medication Murray had injected into his bloodstream. 

Murray looked at John, “We got him, John.”

John’s glare turned into a frown as he looked at Harold one more time and then left to go into the living room with Root.

Once the door shut, Shaw went back over with the other doctors.

“What is it?” She asked.

“He said they had injected him with something, into his brain…” Megan started, “Who knows what damage it could have caused…” She lifted his eyelids to check his pupils. “His left pupil is dilated.”

“The only way to tell would be a CT scan,” Murray added as he checked Harold’s lungs and breathing with his stethoscope.

“We took one… when he first got back…” Shaw started, “There was nothing wrong.”

  
“Do you mind if I take a closer look?” Murray asked. “Maybe I can see something that you might have missed.”

Shaw replied, “Of course, I don’t see why not.”


	13. Chapter 13

_John was standing over Harold when Harold opened his eyes and the expression on his face was endearing. He smiled back in return. “Mister Reese? What’s got you so happy?”_

_John just grinned and sat down._

_“You Harold.” He stated as he sat back in the chair. “You make me happy Finch, don’t you know that by now?”_

_Harold was taken aback at how casually John had stated this seemingly new revelation and wanted to know just exactly what the declaration meant._

_“Well, you make me happy as well John. But surely there’s more to it than that?”_

_John leaned forward and looked at Harold seriously now. “There is no more to it Harold, you’re the most thoughtful, brave, caring and compassionate man I’ve ever met in my life and I need you to know how I feel about you before something happens to one of us and I miss the opportunity to tell you exactly how much you mean to me.”_

_Harold didn’t know what to make of it. Was he imagining it or was John telling him something that he had never even considered before? He needed to be sure._

_“I feel the same about you John and I’m very happy to be able to call you my friend, no more than that, you’re my partner.” Harold smiled at him._

_John seemed a little uncomfortable all of a sudden, he sat back into the chair._

_“I don’t think you understand.” John paused and looked down at the floor as he started to speak then began nervously. ”I would like it if we could be partners in more than just our business…” John looked into his eyes, “I love you, Harold.”_

_Harold was shocked. He couldn’t fathom what John could see in him that would propel these feelings in the man. Harold had never even let himself be open to the idea before, knowing that John had never had any experience in such matters before. Or had he?_

_He knew just about everything about John and nothing he had ever read or experienced before had shown him that he could have been interested in another man before now._

_He himself was open to a relationship between either sex but he had always been more drawn to women than to men. He had only ever been in love with one person in his entire life, Grace, and he had accepted that his life would most likely end with just that one experience._

_He had never dreamed that John would have been attracted to him in that way in a million years so he kept his own attraction to his partner bottled up. But now that John had dropped this bombshell the bottle had been uncorked and he found himself feeling extremely emotional._

_He examined his own feelings and came to the incredible realization that he too felt love for John. He was stunned._

_“How…I mean when….I don’t?” He stammered for words._

_John chuckled, “The how is obvious Harold, the when is about a year ago and all you need to understand is that it’s true and I would never hurt you or allow anyone else to hurt you ever again.” John smiled openly as Harold was struck dumb._

_“I hope this won’t interfere with our work Harold, I won’t push you, I know that you aren’t attracted to men but I just needed to tell you… just in case. Maybe it is selfish on my part but I had to let you know how I feel but I don’t expect you to reciprocate my feelings. We can go on as if nothing was said about it.” He smiled at Harold and stood up._

_Harold was deep in thought, eyebrows knitted in concentration over how he could have missed it._

_He looked up at John not knowing what to say, he needed to hash out exactly how he felt about this new revelation. He smiled back at him._

_“I’ll just go for a few minutes, let you have some privacy for a little while.” John pronounced. He hoped that with a little time to think about it maybe he had the possibility that someday Harold might feel similarly._

_Finch nodded and smiled shyly as John left the room._

_He sat back in the bed and closed his eyes for what only seemed like a minute until he heard a loud commotion outside the room. He sat straight up and listened to what sounded like fighting, things breaking and the sound of muffled cries._

_He started to panic and just as he was about to force himself out of bed Root came rushing into the room._

_“They’ve got him, Harry!” She shouted._

#

John sat out in the living room waiting for an update on Harold.

He couldn’t stand not knowing anything, so he got up and made his way back to the bedroom.

He poked his head in to see the doctors conversing over in front of the latest scans of Harold’s brain.

“What’s going on?” He asked.

“John…” Shaw started, “Go back outside.”

“No.” He countered and crossed his arms. “What is it?”

Shaw sighed, “He’s in a coma Reese.” She stated bluntly.

Reese’s eyes grew wide, “What?” He huffed and felt his heart constrict.

“He’s not responding to stimuli, he has depressed brainstem reflexes… and we can’t see anything on his scans to tell us why this happened, why he would be like this.” Shaw continued.

“So… what do we do?” Reese asked, feeling faint and utterly helpless.

“Well… short of getting a neurologist in here to look him over… there’s not much we can do John.”

“We’ll get the best doctor in the field in here, you know that.” Reese moved over to Finch’s bedside, “I don’t care what you have to do to get him here, just get him here.”

Shaw moved behind Reese, “John…”

“I’m not going to let this happen Shaw.” Reese sat down in a chair next to the bed and put his hand on Harold’s cheek, “I can’t.”

Megan, Shaw and Murray left to go out in the living room to tell Root what was going on, also to figure out what their next move was going to be.

John couldn’t help but think of how peaceful Finch looked. So... content. He really just looked like he was sleeping.

John leaned in closer to Harold, “I don’t know if you can hear me or not Finch… But we need you to wake up…” John cleared his throat, “ _I_ need you to wake up.”

John grasped onto the older man’s hand, “Because I can’t live without you, Harold. You gave me a purpose. A life. I can’t do it without you.”

#

_Root almost collapsed as she all but fell into the room. “They’ve got him, Harry!”_

_Harold looked at her with desperation. “Who’s got him, Miss Groves!?” He exclaimed as he threw the blanket off of him and moved to get up from the bed._

_“Is it Samaritan?” He asked anxiously._

_She nodded. “I don’t know how they found us but there were four of them and they took Shaw out first with a dart to her neck and Doctor Murray and Megan were tranquilized as well, John evaded them and fought three of them while I took the other one. They finally subdued him and dragged him out. I fought as hard as I could but they took him, Harry!” She sobbed. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop them!”_

_Harold tried to think, his mind was a blur, he was overwhelmed with fear and anxiety for his partner’s life._

_“As they left they said that they wanted you, Harry, that if you wanted John to live that you had to give yourself up.” She cried. “Please don’t do it... don’t go back to them, please I wouldn’t be able to stand it again!”_

_“Miss Groves sit down…please!” Harold had stood up on unsteady legs and took Root by the arm and guided her to sit in the chair._

_“Listen to me.” Harold began. “Is the fourth one still out there?”_

_“Yes, I clobbered him over the head and he’s still laying out there.”_

_“Good, he’ll know where they took John, you have to listen to me. I need to go…”_

_“No Harold! No, you can’t!” Root knew what he was going to say and she didn’t want to hear him say the words. “Please, Harold…don’t!” She cried._

_“Root!” He demanded. “Look at me!” She quieted her tears and held his gaze. “You must know that there is nothing else to do, I have to go to him.” He stated reconciled._

_“Then please let us go with you.” She implored. “Just wait until Shaw wakes up and we’ll get Fusco to go with us as well!”_

_“No Miss Groves, I won’t bring the rest of you into it. Not this time.” He helped her from the chair and guided her to the door of the room. “Go see to Miss Shaw and the others, I have to get dressed.”_

_“Please Harold!” She tried again._

_Harold looked at her and smiled sadly. “I’m sorry Samantha, it has to be me. Alone.”_

_The use of her given name made her flinch. “They’ll kill you.” She replied despondently._

_He smiled at her reconciled, “They’ll try.”_

#

Murray and Megan got a neurosurgeon from their hospital to come and look at Harold the next morning.

He hadn’t woken up, and he still wasn’t responding to stimuli.

John had yet to leave the room. He didn’t want to chance Harold waking up and him not being there to calm him down.

Bear lay at his feet, John helped him up there last night when he realized that the dog was having a hard time with all this just like John was.

John heard the door open and he turned to see Megan walking in with a new doctor.

“John, this is Doctor Bryant.” Megan introduced the new man, “He’s a neurologist, he’s agreed to take a look at Harold… See if he can find something we may have overlooked.”

John smiled at the doctor and shook his hand, “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you as well, John.” The doctor replied and then looked to Megan, “Have you checked him this morning?”

“Yes. About two hours ago. Still no response to stimuli and no pupil response.” Megan answered.

The doctor grimaced, “Well let me check a few things over.”

John moved back out of the way and watched as the doctor rubbed his knuckles over Harold’s chest, shined a light into his vacant eyes, and poked and prodded various other places.

Harold moved when the doctor poked his foot with a pen. John’s eyes widened and he felt an ounce of hope.

“Well… his GCS is 4.” The doctor started, “Not good. But… the Decorticate posturing is a good sign…”

“The what?” John asked.

“His body stiffened when I poked his foot, that means he felt it. It’s what we call a response to pain stimuli.”

John nodded.

“Have you taken a brain scan since the coma began?” The doctor asked Megan.

“No.” She replied.

“Okay, let’s take one and see if there’s something internally.”

Megan nodded and moved up towards the head of the bed to disconnect the various machines so they could move Harold’s bed to the CT machine down the hall.

The doctor took John aside, “Has he had any history of brain issues in the past?”

“I don’t think so,” John replied and rubbed his face.

“Okay, well I’m not the type to sugarcoat things, John. So, I’m just going to give it to you straight…” The doctor let out a breath, “A coma just coming out of the woods after a major trauma like this… It’s never a good sign. And when someone’s this far gone…”

John sighed and closed his eyes, “They don’t usually come back.” He finished the sentence for the doctor.

“Yes. But I don’t want you to lose hope yet. Let me look at his scans and then I’ll make a decision.”

John smiled sadly and Megan and the doctor made their way out into the hallway with Harold.

John went to his side and put his hand on his. “Come back, Harold.” He looked at Megan and she smiled sadly at him,

“We’ll do all that we can John.”

John nodded and gently squeezed his partner’s hand. They rolled him down the hall and proceeded with the test.


	14. Chapter 14

_Harold hurriedly got dressed and went out to the room where the fighting had taken place. He limped heavily into the room as Root was trying to bring Shaw around. She had tied the Samaritan operative up and sat him in a chair. The man was bleeding from his head but was conscious._

_He looked at Shaw and the two doctors, who were still unconscious._

_“How is she Root?”_

_Shaw moaned and stirred but was mostly still sedated._

_“She’s coming around, please let us go with you.” She implored._

_“They don’t want you bitch, they only want this guy.” The operative indicated Harold with his chin._

_Harold walked over to him and slapped the man hard across the face._

_“Don’t call her that.” He said as the man winced from the blow._

_“Where do they want me to go?” He asked the man heatedly._

_The guy blinked a few times then answered, “There’s a place down by the river, a warehouse, the address is written on a piece of paper in my pocket.” He looked down his outer suitcoat pocket._

_Harold checked it and pulled out the slip of paper, memorized it and stuffed it in his own pocket._

_Shaw opened her eyes and looked at Harold bleary eyed. “I’m going with_ you _, Harold.” She said._

_Finch smiled at her and shook his head. “No, I’m afraid that’s not possible Miss Shaw.” He replied._

_“What are you talking about Harold, we all need to go and get him back.”_

_“No.” He stated. “They’ll kill him if you go.”_

_“Damn right! The operative exclaimed. Harold slapped him again. He winced and shook the cobwebs from his head but then stayed quiet._

_“They’ll kill you both if we don’t Harold!” Root shot back._

_He smiled at her. “I have to do this on my own.”_

_“Damn_ it _, Harold!” Shaw stood up and promptly lost her balance and collapsed back to the couch._

_Harold smiled fondly as Root immediately started to check on their smallest team member._

_“You two stay here and take care of the doctor’s. I’m going on my own and I won’t have you two disobeying me on this.”_

_“But Harry!” Root started._

_“I said no!” He demanded. “Please ladies, I’ve made up my mind.” He stated as he took a deep breath._

_“And that’s that then is it Harold?” Shaw retorted._

_“Yes Miss Shaw, I’m afraid so.”_

_“Then at least take a couple of guns with you.” She suggested._

_“You know I don’t like weapons.” He stated._

_“Yeah, I know you don’t Harold but Reese doesn’t have a problem with them. If you had the chance to get one to him you might stand a chance. Otherwise…”_

_She left the unsaid hang in the air like a guillotine._

_Harold considered her words. “Alright then, give me one.” He motioned towards the gun._

_The two women’s eyes went wide then Shaw grinned and handed over the weapon._

_Harold took it tentatively._

_“Look, I’ll show you.” And she quickly began to try and instruct him on it._

_“Stop Miss Shaw. I know how they work.” Harold grinned at her expression of astonishment._

_“Just because I abhor them doesn’t mean I don’t know how to use one.” He placed the weapon in the back of his waistband, hiding it from view._

_“I have to_ hurry _if I can get there quickly maybe I’ll have a better chance.”_

_He looked at his team members and smiled at them and took each one of their hands. “It’s been my great pleasure and I’m extremely proud of you both.” He squeezed their hands and smiled warmly at them and then let them go._

_“Please Harold!” Root tried one last time._

_He smiled at her and saw the tears flow from her eyes._

_“Goodbye Miss Groves, Miss Shaw.” He turned and limped towards the door._

_He opened it and started to go out. “Please watch over Bear for me.” He said and took one last look at his two warriors then closed the door behind him._

#

John sat in Harold’s room waiting for them to get back from the CT scan. He couldn’t help but think that this was his fault.

Everyone he’d ever gotten close to was dead…

He never intended to get close to Finch… It was always just supposed to be an employer/employee relationship.

But then there was Harold, risking his life to save him from the CIA’s grasp in the parking garage.

And there he was again, giving him a loft for his Birthday.

Disarming the bomb vest strapped to his chest.

Bringing him back from the edge after Carter died.

John couldn’t help but fall in love with the recluse.

John turned to see Megan and Shaw making their way into the room with Harold. He was still asleep. Well, John liked to think of him as sleeping, because the alternative was just too much to think about.

“How’d it go?” He asked, desperate for just an ounce of hope.

“Doctor Bryant and Murray are looking at the scans right now,” Megan answered.

Shaw hooked Harold back up to some of the machines and listened to his breathing, she grimaced.   
“What?” John asked exasperatedly.

“We might have to put him on life support. His breathing isn’t where it should be.” Shaw sighed.

“What?!” John breathed out. “What’s wrong with his breathing?”

“John.” Shaw turned to look at him with sad eyes, “His brain isn’t working like it should be right now which is going to affect other things.”

John sat down in the chair and sighed. He ran his hand through his hair, “He was fine. We got him back and everything was going to be fine…”

“Hey. Stop acting like he’s dead.” Shaw scolded. “He’s still got a chance to come back from this John. You just have to give it time.”

John closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, “Okay.”

Just then the two doctors walked into the room, “Well… Good news and bad news.” Doctor Bryant started, “Good news is I can’t see anything that would be causing this as far as a brain injury.”

John smiled, “That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Well… that’s the bad news. I don’t know why he’s in a coma. From everything I can see, he should be fine.” Doctor Bryant walked over to Harold’s bed, “I’d like to do an EEG. It detects abnormalities in brain waves, or in the electrical activity of the brain.”

“Will that be able to tell you why he’s not waking up?” John asked.

“It’s more of showing us what’s going on in his brain. If he still has activity or not. If he doesn’t…” The doctor trailed off, “He’s more than likely gone for good.”

John huffed and hung his head. He looked back up at the doctor, “But you said when he moved, that was a good sign… right?”

“Yes, it was.” The doctor had a sympathetic smile on his face, “Like I said, John. Don’t lose hope yet.”

Shaw took the doctors out to show them where the EEG machine was, John stayed back.

He walked over to Harold’s bedside, “Hey Finch. They’re trying to figure it out. Guess even when you’re in a coma you have to be difficult.” John smirked, “And before you even start, no we haven’t gotten a new number. I guess the machine knows you’re…” John cleared his throat, “Root went out this morning. She won’t show it but this is bothering her too. Bear’s a mess…” John trailed off and wiped the water from his cheek. “Hell, I’m a mess, Finch. And we both know what happens when I’m a mess…”

John grabbed Harold’s hand, “I know you’re probably tired. You need rest. So… just rest as long as you need to. I’ll be here.”

John felt Harold’s hand gently squeeze his… He looked down to see the smaller, pale hand enclosed around his own.

He looked at Harold’s closed eyes and emotionless face,

“Thank you.” He rasped as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

#

_Harold got outside to the black town car and got in with a stab to his lower back._

_“Damn it!” He had forgotten to take the gun from behind him before he had gotten in and the cold steel jabbed at him. “That’s going to leave a bruise.” He chuckled to himself._

_He put the gun next to him on the passenger seat and regarded the weapon with disgust._

_He started the car and backed out of the driveway swiftly. It was nighttime and quite cold._

_He wished he had grabbed his top coat and hat before he went out the door but then thought, why bother, he wasn’t going to trudge back in and waste time on a potential_ menial _chill when John’s life hung in the balance._

_He was in quite a lot of pain but it really wasn’t so bad with the adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream at the moment._

_Besides, he would need all of his mental capacity if he was going to stand a chance on saving his partner’s life._

_He recognized the area that the address had shown and knew a few short cuts that would be highly_ useful _if the men that took John didn’t know of them as well._

_It was going to be about a forty-five-minute drive and he figured he could shave at least fifteen to twenty minutes off of that time if fate was on his side and he played his cards right._

_He hoped that the operative that was left behind hadn’t memorized the address that was written on the paper he had in his pocket. He didn’t want anyone coming after him. He wanted his people to stay safe. Well, relatively safe for the time being anyway._

_Depending on how many operatives were at the location waiting for them would determine how he was going to handle the situation. He would know more once he got there._

_He hoped like hell that he would be able to get there first. He knew that they would never suspect him, of all people, of anything close to a rescue, especially alone._

_On the drive, he thought about John. How far their relationship had progressed._

_He remembered their tentative first few months, how John was always trying to trail him to his home. He laughed to himself._

_If John had only known then that Harold never had a permanent residence and that he was wasting all his free time trying to find something that didn’t exist… John would have been embarrassed and mad at himself._

_He thought about when they had hit a turning point, at least as far as he was concerned. When Mark Snow and his partner tried to kill John on the rooftop of the hospital._

_He was so scared for John when he spoke to him as he was stumbling down the stairs and bleeding out while being pursued by Detective Carter._

_John was convinced that he was going to die and had warned him not to risk trying to save him._

_As if he would have just have left him like that, like so much trash. The man never thought he was good enough._

_That was the first landmark in their relationship in his eyes. After that breakthrough, there would be no looking back._

_He remembered how that day had_ begun _when he had tried to help John in the field and almost gotten himself_ blown up _. John had felt so bad about that, not even considering that it was Harold who had put himself in harm’s way, he blamed himself instead._

_And then Joss fell for Snow’s song and dance and inadvertently helped him to either take John back with him or kill him on that rooftop. And Snow had wanted to kill John a great deal._

_My how far they had come since that night._

_Thinking about it now, he determined that it was that day that his attraction to John had begun. The concern John had shown for him when he thought he had been hurt or killed that day was the beginning of greater feelings for him. He just had never realized until now that it was then that his world began to change._

_He wasn’t sure how John was going to react but if they lived through this… he was resolved to tell John just how he felt and then let the chips fall where they may._

_If John doesn’t feel the same way towards him, he would accept it and hope to be able to move past it._

_He knew that John could keep their work separate from personal issues and maintain it as the top priority. Even if it killed him he would never broach the subject with him again and try to keep his feelings for John to himself._

_He hoped that he wouldn’t make John feel uncomfortable around him after he professes his love to him but only a little time and a lot of luck would tell the tale._

_If they lived through this dilemma all will soon be revealed._

_After twenty-two minutes on the road, Harold pulled into the long strip of buildings along the waterfront and turned off the headlights. He went slowly and determined where the exact location was and stopped five units from the place. He pulled into a row of existing cars and looked around._

_He had gotten there before the Samaritan agents had arrived with John, he was sure of it._

_Now he had to wait._


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's a bit on the shorter side.  
> Hope you enjoy!  
> This week may get a bit hectic so I apologize if I don't update as frequently as I have been!

“The part of his brain that is showing abnormalities is the part where he was injected with whatever caused the simulations,” Shaw said as she came in the door. The other doctors had gone home. Shaw told them they didn’t need to stay there 24/7 and that they could just check in over the next couple of days.

 John was sitting by Harold’s bed, just watching him, “Is he going to wake up?”

“We don’t know,” Shaw replied shortly.

“What the hell do you mean you don’t know?” Reese scoffed and rolled his eyes.

Shaw decided that she would just break the news. Reese deserved to know the truth and he wouldn’t want her to beat around the bush.

“There’s nothing we can do for him, John. His brain just took one too many hits. We need to talk about…” Shaw cleared her throat, “The end….what he would want to do if….”

Reese closed his eyes and fought back the urge to throw her up against the wall and knock her out right then and there, “No.” He rasped. “Is there a chance that he could wake up?” He asked without taking his attention away from the older man in the bed.

“Reese…”

“Is there a chance?” He interrupted her.

“Yes, Reese there’s a chance.” She replied. “But if he did wake up….he may never really come back. The results of the brain scans weren’t promising John. Would he want to live in body but not in mind?” She asked him sadly.

“Well we won’t know for sure until he wakes up, so we’re not giving in.” He smoothed out the blanket under Harold’s unresponsive hand.

Shaw closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She wouldn’t push him. He’d be ready in his own time… “Okay. Whatever you say. We’ll be out in the kitchen if you need us.” And with that, she left the room.

John looked to Harold, “Her bedside manner needs work.” He chuckled but then his face turned stoic, “I’m going to go get a drink, I’ll be right back Finch.” He left the room and went to the kitchen to compose himself for a few minutes.

#

_Harold saw the Black SUV round the corner and instinctively ducked behind his car as it drove by slowly. When he stood up he was able to see the driver exit the vehicle and then two men from either side got out. He made his way behind the line of cars until he was about twenty feet from them with a single car in between that he used for cover. It took all three men to pull John from the vehicle and Harold’s heart sank as he watched one of the men deliver a blow to John’s ribcage effectively causing him to stop struggling and double over in pain with his hands tied behind his back. He almost went to his knees and he winced from the impact and it drew a pained groan from him through the duct tape that covered his mouth. He breathed heavily through his nose. They must have really gone to town on him, Harold thought to himself infuriated._

_John’s face was red and swollen from the pounding they had given him, Harold had to prevent himself from revealing his presence and ripping their heads off at the crass display of violence._

_“Look you bastard, it’s not doing you any good to fight, just be still and stop resisting!” One of the men quipped._

_John stayed quiet and looked around the area trying to get his bearings. It was then that Harold moved just to within his line of sight. He saw the look of shock and surprise that John had on his face when they made eye contact. Then he quickly looked away from him so as not to give Harold away._

_“Joey, what time are the rest of the guys getting here?” One of the men asked._

_“They should have already been here.” The man answered as he looked around the parking lot, mentally taking inventory of the vehicles._

_“Well it's fucking freezing out here, let’s get this joker inside.” The man replied as he man-handled John to stand up straight and start moving. John pretended to lose his balance and went to his knees._

_Harold saw his opportunity. He had to rescue John before they got him inside the building and before anyone else showed up. He figured he had half a chance with just three unsuspecting individuals but his odds were going to get a lot worse as soon as the other operatives showed up._

_He hurriedly limped around the car that had hidden him and brought the gun up and leveled it towards the group as he walked closer to them._

_The three men were shocked and immediately went still as they looked from the gun to Harold’s hardened expression._

_“Cut him loose,” Harold demanded with vehemence._

_There was a split second of complete silence before the men registered that the man holding a gun on them was the man that they had been sent after in the first place._

_The leader of the little crew of thugs grinned wickedly at Harold._

_“Or what?” He replied sarcastically. “You going to shoot us? I know who you are and I’ll bet you don’t even know how to work a gun.” He stated mockingly._

_Harold stared right into his eyes unrelenting. “I assure you that you’re wrong and if you don’t do as I ask immediately you will find out first hand just how well I do._

_Harold didn’t move a muscle and he peered into the man’s eyes unflinchingly, the air around him screamed danger. The man had a moment of doubt and started to reach for his gun._

#

John went out into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of scotch out of the cupboard.

He set it down on the counter, along with a glass.

Shaw looked over from her spot at the table and sighed, “John…”

“Don’t.” He snapped at her and poured some of the scotch into his glass.

He downed it in one gulp and poured another, downing that in one chug as well.

“Drinking away your sorrows isn’t going to bring him back.” Shaw got up and grabbed his arm to prevent him from pouring another glass.

He ripped his arm out of her grasp and reached for the bottle.

She grabbed it out of his hands.

“Don’t start with me, Shaw.” He rasped and glared into her eyes.

“Finch already got your ass off the streets and cleaned you up from your drunken life once, you gonna just go back to that as soon as something bad happens?”

Reese continued to glare at her, “You don’t know anything.”

“I know that he wouldn’t want to live like this.” Shaw said and her voice suddenly turned soft, “Even if he wakes up Reese… He’s not going to be Finch. The doctor said that he could be looking at deficits… he might not even be able to talk again John.”

“You don’t know that.” Reese looked at her through tear filled eyes, “He could come back and be himself and you said that yourself.”

Shaw let out a breath and frowned, “John… the odds of that are…”

“He squeezed my hand.” John cut her off.

“What?” She asked.

“He squeezed my hand… earlier... after the EEG…” John closed his eyes and let out a breath, “He’s never given up on me and I’m not giving up on him.” Reese said and made his way back to the bedroom.

Root came in through the front door just as Reese had left.

She had a questioning look on her face, “What’d I miss?”

Shaw looked at her and smiled sadly, “We need to talk.”

#

John made his way back into the room, he sat down in his chair next to Harold’s bed and sighed.

He noticed that the doctors had taken Harold’s glasses off for all the tests they did and never replaced them. He got up and grabbed them off the end table and placed them on Finch’s face, “There.” John sighed and smiled, “I know you hate being without them.”

John sat back down in the chair, he noticed that Harold’s blanket was bunched up at the end up his feet, so he moved closer and straightened it out.

“So. Shaw thinks we should just let you go.” John started, “Of course I don’t Harold.” John cleared his throat and sat back down, “I would be lost without you and I can’t let that happen again, I need you.”


	16. Chapter 16

_The man facing Harold reached for his gun and John swung his leg around the guy standing at his side knocking him off his feet and knocking him out with one blow just as he heard Finch fire his gun._

_The man threatening Finch fell to his knees and looked at Harold in disbelief then feel forward onto his face, dead. The third man ran over and ducked behind a car and fumbled for his gun as Finch immediately went to help John get up and out of the line of fire._

_As John got to his feet a shot rang out Finch stumbled forward into him almost knocking him down. Harold grabbed onto John as he slid to the pavement._

_“John…” He gasped._

_John couldn’t believe what was happening._

_During the ruckus, he managed to get his hands free and took the gun from his partner’s hand as he laid on the ground bleeding from a bullet wound in his back and trying to breathe._

_John stood quickly and shot the man that had pulled the trigger on Finch right between the eyes as he struggled with the gun that had jammed after the destructive bullet had left its chamber._

_Harold groaned and tried to get up but fell back to the cold ground._

_“Harold!” John knelt down next to him on the ground and gently turned his body over to face him. Tears sprang to his eyes seeing his partner’s pained expression._

_Harold smiled at him. “John…. I saved you…. didn’t I?” He choked out and blood coated his mouth and ran from his lips._

_John couldn’t talk. He nodded and wiped his eyes._

_Harold felt his life ebbing away but had to express the one most important thing that he had hoped they might have time for later… but was not to be._

_“John... I love you.” He proclaimed then began to cough up blood._

_When he had stilled from the painful onslaught, John hugged finch’s slack body to him and whispered into his ear, “I love you too Harold.”_

_Finch smiled, warm and content in the cold night air, he had received the greatest gift in his life and he was happy._

_John felt Harold’s life force slowly drain from him and he continued to hold his body tightly to his chest and rocked him back and forth as he took his last breath. “Always, Harold.” He sobbed quietly, “Always.”_

#

John was nodding off in the chair when all of a sudden, he heard a loud gasp from Harold’s bed.

He shot up from his seat and stood over him. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw Harold’s blue eyes staring back at him.

“Harold?” John asked, “Harold can you hear me?”

Harold looked… confused. He couldn’t focus on John and his eyes were drooping.

“It’s me, John. Say something Finch.” John started to worry about the vacant expression that Finch had in his eyes and his chest began to tighten into a knot. “Say something, please.”

Harold squinted his eyes, “Ouch.” He groaned and his head relaxed back down into the pillow.

John let out an exasperated sigh of relief, “Hey Finch,” he smiled.

Harold looked back at John glassy eyed. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“Finch?” John asked and ran his fingers through Harold’s hair in worry.

“I… ca...” Harold stuttered, not able to form words.

John’s heart sank to his stomach and he ran out of the room to get Shaw and Root.

#

Harold woke up with a sudden gasp. He checked his surroundings and let out a mental sigh of relief realizing that everything he had just gone through was just a dream, a figment of his imagination.

He wasn’t dead.

But where did John go?

He saw the younger man lean in front of him and he had a look of worry on his face.

_What’s wrong John?_ He wanted to ask. But he couldn’t make his mouth move.

“Say something, please,” John asked him.

Harold could only manage to groan out, “Ouuchhh.”

John smiled at that and Harold felt better. But he still couldn’t manage to speak. _I can’t talk._ He wanted to say, but could only choke out, “I ca…”

John’s face turned from relief to utter horror and he fled the room. Harold was confused by it all.

Then John came back with Shaw and Ms. Groves. Both with the same look on their face that John had when Harold first woke up and saw him.

“Finch?” Shaw asked as she made her way over to his bed. She pulled out a penlight from her pocket and shone it into his eyes, “Follow my finger.” She instructed.

But the light was so bright that Harold squinted his eyes shut and tried to turn away from it.

“Sensitivity to light. Noted.” She smirked, “You’ll have to deal with it, for now, Finch, sorry.” She told him.

He mumbled something under his breath and looked at her. She proceeded to shine the light in his eyes again, “John says you can’t talk?” She said shoving the flashlight back into her pocket.

Harold shook his head.

“Try for me, say my name.” She replied.

Harold let out an annoyed sigh and tried to speak again, “Mmssss. Shhhhhawww.”

He was surprised and annoyed by the sound that came out. His thoughts were perfectly coherent and articulated but he couldn’t get the sentences in his brain to come out correctly through his mouth. It was if there was a barrier in between the two processes.

Shaw smiled, “We’ll work on it.” She took both of his hands in hers, “Squeeze for me.”

Harold tried to squeeze her petite hands only to look down and see that his right hand was not moving as well as his left.

“Good,” Shaw said, not letting the fact that his right side was weaker than the left show that it concerned her a great deal. She placed her hands under his feet, “Push down.”

The right was weaker than the left, just like his hands, “Okay. Some of the leg issue could be from your hip too, Finch.”

He nodded his head, “Whhh…” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “Whhhat?” He narrowed his eyebrows in concentration.

It took the others a second, but they figured out what he was asking. He wanted to know what happened.

“We don’t exactly know Harold. You’re brain just took one too many hits. You were in a coma for almost two days.” Shaw replied.

Harold’s brow furrowed, “I…” He squeezed his eyes shut and let out an annoyed sigh, “I… see.” He tried to wrap his mind around this latest set of drawbacks and he began to feel angry.

“You’ll be okay Finch.” John smiled and sat back down in his chair next to the older man’s bed.

Harold wasn’t so sure about John’s optimism but decided to give himself a little more time before he thought the worst about his condition.

“Okay Harold, I’m going to call Megan and get her and the neurologist back over here to check you out.” Shaw patted him on the leg, “Take it easy. This isn’t something you bounce back from overnight.”

Root came over to Harold as well, “You’ll be coding in no time Harry. Don’t worry.”

He smiled at her, not wanting to make himself even more upset about the fact that his brain couldn’t seem to work better than a toddler’s.

When Root and Shaw left, John looked at Finch and smiled. “It’s going to be all right Harold. We didn’t go through all of this just to see it all go down the drain.”

Harold smiled, “Oookkkay.”

“Do you want to try to write?” John asked, sensing that Harold wanted to talk.

The injured man nodded and John got up to get a pen and piece of paper. He brought it back over to Finch and handed set it down on the table connected to the side of the man’s bed. “Okay let’s lift your bed up.” John pressed the button on the bed railing and the head of Harold’s bed slowly rose. “Here.” John extended the pen to Harold, who looked at it for a moment… before extending his left arm to grab it.

He looked down at the paper, his brows furrowed in concentration. After about a minute of just looking down at his hand with the pen setting on the paper, Harold started to get frustrated and angry, sounds of annoyance escaping his small frame as time dragged on.

“Harold… Maybe another time.” John smiled sympathetically and moved to grab the pen from the older man.

He saw two tears streak down Harold’s cheek. Reese reached over and took one of Harold’s trembling hands, giving it a small squeeze, “Hey. Look at me.” Reese smiled warmly, “You’ll get through this. You’re going to get better.”

Harold cleared his throat and looked up at John.

John wiped away the tears from his cheek with his thumb, “How about I talk and you listen? And when you want to say something, just try it. Even if you can only get out a sound, I’ll be able to understand.”

Harold huffed and rolled his eyes with a small smile of annoyance.

“Sound good?” John asked as he sat back down in the chair.

Harold nodded his head, “Snds…. good.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harold's torture has yet to end...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while since the last update, but good things come to those who wait lol

Later that night, John sat next to the bed, watching Harold sleep with a deep pain in his chest. It was heavy and suffocating him slowly.

Harold didn’t deserve this. Harold was smart. A genius. And here he was unable to talk. Unable to express himself in any way other than groans and fits of crying. How frustrating must this be for him? John thought.

If anyone deserved this, it was him. He had done horrible things, had more blood on his hands than he could even remember. But he was fine and Harold was the one laying incapacitated in the bed.

John leaned back in his chair and let out a deep breath. Harold had to come back from this. He had to get better. John wouldn’t be able to handle it if he didn’t.

#

The next morning, the doctors came into the room with Shaw and Root following behind them.

John sat in the chair, staring at Harold. The bags under his bloodshot eyes said that he hadn’t slept.

John nudged Harold’s arm, “Wake up Harold.”

Harold groaned and rolled over awkwardly. Finch merely blinked at him and looked around the room, and then looked down at his hip with a pained expression.

John got up and grabbed the pain button from Finch’s bad side and pressed it, relief immediately flooded Finch’s face.

“This is Doctor Bryant, Harold. He’s a neurologist. He’s friends with Megan.” John explained before the doctor walked up to the side of the bed.

“Hello, Harold.” The doctor smiled at him.

Finch nodded and smiled back.

“I hear you’re having trouble talking?” The doctor asked.

Finch cleared his throat and let out a chopped, “Ye…s.”

“Okay well let’s see if we can find out why.” The doctor sat down next to Harold on his bed, “Sometimes, when people are in a coma for a while, the brain just doesn’t want to wake up. It takes a while for things to come back. I’m not saying that’s what’s wrong with you, but it very well could be.”

Harold looked at him, his brows raised… then looked to John,

“He wants to know if he’s going to get better,” John said.

“The brain’s a very complex organ, Harold. We can never predict whether or not it’s going to recover fully. But with good therapy, you should be able to be almost 100% if not completely 100%.”

Harold smiled and replied, “O… Kay.” And breathed a sigh of relief.

“So, I’ll just take a look at a couple things, then we might do another CT scan just so I can double check everything. Then I’ll give you some exercises to do as far as speech goes.”

Harold smiled again and nodded to the doctor. Then he looked down at his right side, and then looked to John.

“What about his right side?” John asked.

“We’ll figure that out after I do some tests, but it should return just like your speech.” The doctor smiled and got up, “Let’s do the CT scan first.”

Megan and Shaw set to getting Harold into a wheelchair with some help from John. Something that proved to be difficult with how little Harold could actually move his right side.

Once they got him positioned and all the wires and IV lines situated, they took off down the hallway into the room with the CT machine.

#

Harold started to feel panicky as soon as he laid eyes on the machine that he would have to enter for the imaging to be done on his brain. He knew that it was something that had to be done but knowing something doesn’t make it any easier to bear.

He began to tremble at the idea of having to lay perfectly still and be enclosed in this monstrosity for what would feel like an eternity. He looked at John with wide frightened eyes and his partner felt so terribly bad for him. John placed his hand on Finch’s shoulder and leaned over and spoke quietly into his ear.

“I’m going to be right here Harold, I’m not going anywhere, you’ll be ok,” John answered Finch’s pleading expression as calmly as he could. He smiled at Harold with confidence that he didn’t feel and saw Harold take a deep breath and nod indicating that he was ready.

“Ok, you know the drill Harold, I want you to lay down and try not to move once we get you inside. It should only take about twenty minutes if everything goes as it should.” The doctor smiled at Harold as they positioned him on the table.

He winced at the effort that was put on his weakened body. Between the three of them with John taking the majority of Harold’s weight they finally got him laid out on the table.

Shaw and Megan stood back and let John and Harold have a minute to themselves.

Shaw could tell that Harold was highly agitated and knew that if anyone was going to be able to calm him down it would be John.

As he lay there looking into John’s eyes, he started to tear up. _“Damn it! I’m so useless like this!”_ he thought to himself _. “I can’t even communicate properly!”_

John smiled reassuringly as he could. “It’ll just be a little while Finch, you can do it, I know you can.”

Harold took one last calming breath and nodded.

“He’s ready,” John informed the doctor that was inside a separate room to monitor the procedure.

“It won’t take long Harold, we’ll see you soon. Shaw offered and followed Megan out of the room.

John looked down at Harold once more. “I’ll be sitting right over there Finch.” He pointed to a chair against the wall. Harold smiled nervously and closed his eyes.

He felt the table move but kept his eyes closed. If he didn’t see how enclosed he was going to be inside maybe it would be easier. He tried to concentrate on his breathing.

He felt the table stop and the doctor instructed him through an intercom that the test was about to commence.

“Ok Harold, are you ready?” Doctor Bryant asked.

Harold lifted his left hand in indication.

“He says to go ahead.” John prompted.

The machine began to whir and Harold started to take deep breaths through his nose, continuing to keep his eyes shut. He felt a warmth spreading throughout his entire body and started to sweat.

Suddenly, the voice that came through the intercom wasn’t the same voice as the one that had started the test.

“Now Mister Finch, I’ll ask you once more…..where is your machine?”

“ _My God!”_ He thought to himself, it’s Greer.

His eyes flew open at the voice of terror and torment but he couldn’t move a muscle. _“How did they find me! John! Where’s John! What have they done with him!”_ He thought. He tried to speak but nothing would come out.

“Why must you be so difficult Harold?” Greer asked insipidly. “Come now, you and I are intelligent men, I’ll give you one last opportunity for us to work together, to unite our machines, to meet a common goal.”

Harold was screaming inside. There was absolutely nothing he could do.

“I’ve lost my patience for the last time with you Mister Finch,” Greer stated coldly.

“Mister Lambert, if you would please,” Greer ordered.

The table moved and as he came out of the tunnel his eyes scanned the room.

Greer’s man Lambert was standing next to John’s unconscious body as he was strapped to a chair and holding a gun to his head.

Lambert grinned at Harold with joyously evil spite

“It’s my pleasure Mister Greer.” He snickered.

Harold thought he was going to pass out from fear. His heart hammered inside his head. He could nothing but watch.

“Proceed Mister Lambert,” Greer ordered.

“Yes, sir.” Lambert leveled the barrel of the gun to John’s temple and slowly and theatrically pulled the trigger.

Harold’s eyes went wide at the sight of blood and bone that exploded from John’s head and caked the wall behind him. He squeezed them shut tight in anguish and screamed at the top of his lungs.


	18. Chapter 18

John was up in an instant. “Stop!” He shouted and went to Finch. He stood outside the machine, only able to touch Harold’s mid-section.

Finch’s body was shaking terribly and John realized that he was sobbing, the trembling from his cries rocked his injured frame.

“John!” He cried, “J… john.” Over and over again.

“Get him out of there now!” John demanded.

The table began to move Harold out of its confines excruciatingly slow.

“Harold! Harold, I’m here, you’re ok, I got you now.” John tried to sooth his partner’s frantic state.

Harold opened his eyes. “Are… y… you here?” He asked confused and passed out from the trauma of his overloaded brain.

John looked to the doctors who came into the room, “Did you get what you needed? We can’t put him back in there.”

“Yeah, it should be good enough,” Shaw replied.

John picked up Harold’s unconscious body and guided him back into the wheelchair, “What did you see?” He asked.

“His brain looks normal. So, from what I can tell, he should be able to make a full recovery.”

Reese’s head dropped in reprieve and he let out a breath. He started to wheel Harold back into his room.

The doctors followed, “So I’ll stay here for a while, go over Harold’s first rehab session with you all.”

The three doctors helped John get Harold back into bed and comfortable, just as they were connecting all the machines and such back to Finch, he started to come around again.

“Mmmmmm.” He groaned. “J…ohn.”

“I’m here Finch,” John replied with a smile moving over next to his partner.

“Wh… wha…t…” Harold started, “H…appen.” He looked around the room with huge confused eyes.

John frowned, “You had a panic attack while you were in the CT machine Finch. You passed out.”

Harold let out a breath, “Oh.”

The doctor moved in, “Harold, the brain scan shows no signs of abnormalities.” He smiled, “That’s a great sign.”

Harold nodded.

“Think you’re up to do some exercises?”

Harold nodded once again.

“Okay.” The doctor sat on the edge of the bed next to Harold and put his hands on the sides of Harold’s jaw, “Swallow for me.” Harold swallowed and cleared his throat, “Good. Now cough.” Finch gave an annoyed sigh and coughed, “Okay.”

The doctor got up and grabbed some index cards out of his pocket, “Read these for me.”

Harold squinted at the first card.

John realized he didn’t have his glasses on and so he grabbed them off the end table and set them back onto Finch’s face, “Can’t say them if you can’t see them.” John laughed.

Harold smiled in thanks and set to reading the card, “S… S… Sun.” The doctor switched the card, “P… p…”

Harold closed his eyes, “P…”

His nose wrinkled and his brows frowned in frustration.

The doctor looked to John who had a sad look on his face. The man had built the most complex AI software in the world and now he couldn’t pronounce the word _pool_. 

He shook his head to the doctor for him to stop. 

“Okay, Harold. You can try these later.” Doctor Bryant said with a sympathetic smile. “John can work with you on them.”

Harold just kept his eyes closed and didn’t acknowledge the others in the room.

The doctor did a bunch of other things, including working on his right side, moving his arm and leg.

“All right. So, Megan can work with you on these daily. Recovery is probably going to be slow Harold, I’m going to warn you.”

Harold let out another frustrated sigh.

The doctor got up, “But. That doesn’t mean you won’t get better.” He shook Harold’s hand and followed Megan and Shaw out into the living room to go over a few things with them.

John looked to Harold and smiled, “Well I guess that’s good news.”

Harold smirked and nodded. He signaled for John to get the index cards with words on them.

“You wanna try again?” John asked, “Harold. Your brain needs rest as much or more than it needs to practice the words.”

Harold let out another frustrated sigh and groaned.

John gave in and grabbed the cards off the table, “Fine.”

He held up the first card that read _Truck_.

Harold’s eyes squinted in concentration, “T...” He sighed, “Tru… ck.” Harold smiled at the small sound.

John laughed, “Good.” He held out the next card that read _Pool._ The same one Harold had trouble with earlier.

“P… p…” Harold closed his eyes, “P…” He said with hindrance.

He slammed his fist down on the table and threw his head back onto the pillow.

“Hey!” John reproached, “Harold. Look at me.” He put his hands on either side of Harold’s face, “You getting frustrated is not helping anything. I know it sucks. I know it’s not fair. But it’s going to take a while.” John smiled, “You didn’t build the machine in a day, did you?”

Harold huffed and smirked, “I su… sssuppose… n… not.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is! The last chapter! Thanks for going along with the ride! Hope you enjoyed it!

A week went by and Harold’s speech was almost completely back. The word practice sessions almost every couple of hours with John worked wonders.

He and John were in his room at night, Harold was sleeping and John was just nodding in the chair.

Harold woke up with a gasp in the middle of the night. John jerked awake and looked at him with concern.

“You okay?” 

Harold took a deep breath and sighed in relief, “Yes. Just a… bad dream.”

“That’s the third one this week Finch.” John sighed. “Do you wanna talk about it? Harold, it’s not something that you’re going to be able to just forget about. For two months after Root took you, I’d wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat because I kept seeing her taking you.” John smiled sadly, “I don’t know how many times I’d open our cell connection just to hear you sleeping.”

“John…” Harold started.

“But it went away eventually. The tracking device in your glasses helps… Just, if you ever want to talk about it, Harold. I’m here.”

Harold smiled to John and laid back down in bed. After a few minutes, he shot up and looked at John, “Wait a moment. Did you just say tracking device in my glasses?”

“No.” John smiled, “You must be hearing things.”

Harold rolled his eyes, not amused. After a couple minutes Harold spoke up, “When the ferry bomb exploded…” He sat there stunned at himself for a second. John’s eyes were wide as well, he went on, “I _felt_ my back break…”

“Harold…” John started but Harold kept talking.

“It was the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life, and I was scared to death.” Harold breathed out, “But being captured by them…” Harold’s eyes started to tear up, “I was terrified.”

John looked at him, his face full of compassion and moved closer to Finch, “You don’t have to do this Harold.”

“Yes, I do! Because I’ll be damned if I’m going to let those bastards take over my mind any more than they already have!” He shouted.

John didn’t say anything and just let Harold keep going.

“They manhandled my hip first… I thought… this isn’t so bad. I can stick it out through physical pain.” Harold scoffed, “But then they started the simulations… they paralyzed me and made me watch myself and Nathan getting blown up repeatedly…” Harold took a breath.

John tried to stay calm…

“All I could think about was the numbers. I put the contingency plan in place for something like this… but they said that you were dead…” Harold lifted his hand to his face and wiped the tears from his cheeks, “I always figured this would happen. That someone would get to me... it’s the main reason I chose to leave Grace… Nathan and I trusted the wrong people to give the machine to.” Harold took another deep breath, “I was determined that I was not going to give up the location of Ms. Groves and Ms. Shaw or the location of the machine.”

“You didn’t Harold.” John grabbed his hand, “You did good.” He said with a smile.

“Just… let me finish please.” Harold’s eyes were sad and he frowned, “I couldn’t stand it any longer… I didn’t think I could hold out much further… So, I just thought to myself… you were dead… Nathan was dead… everyone I had ever cared about was dead… or would be if I told them what they wanted to know…” Harold couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, “They threatened Grace.”

John closed his eyes and held back the instinct to scowl,

“I told myself I wouldn’t be the result of her being harmed… so I decided to… take myself out of the equation.”

John had flashbacks of seeing Harold dangling from the ceiling…

It was quiet for a long moment before John spoke up, “You shouldn’t have had to make that decision Harold.” He grabbed a tissue and wiped more tears from Harold’s cheeks, “We should have been there sooner. We failed you and I’m sorry.”

“No. You did not fail me, John.” Harold took the tissue from his hand and dabbed at his eyes, “You came for me… when it put your lives in imminent danger… I cannot thank you enough.”

John sort of scoffed and had a smile on his face, “Leave it to you to be the one who’s been tortured for 4 days and thank us… we all owe you our lives, Finch…” John trailed off.

“Well thank you, Mr. Reese.” Harold grabbed his hand, “I’m glad to be back and you have no idea how happy I was to see you… even if I didn’t show it in the moment.”

John started to laugh, “Don’t worry, you had a lot on your mind.”

Harold chuckled, “Yes… yes, I did.”

#

The next day, doctor Murray had arrived at the safe house. He and Megan were helping Harold start to move around and walk again. With him lying in the bed for so long, his muscles had atrophied some.

He hadn’t gotten completely out of bed yet, nothing more than standing up and doing minor leg exercises. So, when Murray came in today and asked if he wanted to walk, Harold was nervous, to say the least.

“Think you can try moving a little bit again Harold?”

“I can surely give it a try Doctor.” Harold breathed out and pulled his blankets off.

“Okay. How do you feel about walking?” Murray smiled and helped Harold sit up and sit on the edge of the bed.

“I… I’m not sure…” Harold stammered. “I don’t know if I’m ready…”

“Harold you’ve been walking your whole life. You can do it.” Murray started, “But if you don’t think you can, I won’t push you.”

Harold looked at John who just shrugged and smiled at him, “You can do it, Finch.”

Harold looked back to Murray who had a huge smile on his face, “Crutches or a walker?”

Harold smirked and let out a breath, “Walker I suppose.”

“Okay so.” Murray started, “When you stand up, I’ll help you a little bit… but not much. When you stand, put your force down onto the walker.”

Harold nodded and took a deep breath in and let it out.

“Ready?”

“Ready.” Harold smiled.

He managed to lift himself up with a groan and swayed a little bit,

“You good Finch?” John asked.

Harold nodded his head and took a deep breath in and out.

“Any dizziness or nausea?” Murray asked as he moved the IV lines and heart monitor lines out of the way.

“A little. My head hurts some.” Harold admitted.

“Okay, we’ll just go to the wall and back.” Murray smiled.

#

The next day, Harold and John were sitting in Harold’s room with Bear. Harold was reading a book while John had the newspaper in front of his face.

Harold had been thinking a lot lately about the revelation he had while he was in the coma. What he had thought was a reality at the time but only imagined. Telling John he loved him… and he couldn’t help but feel like he should tell John right now, while he thought he might have the nerve to do it.

He wasn’t sure how John was going to react and never in a million years thought John might feel the same way… but after everything that had happened in the past couple weeks, he had to disprove his doubts or validate them, either way, he had to know, he couldn’t wait any longer.

“Mister Reese.” Harold started.

John folded the newspaper and set it down, “Yeah, Finch?”

“I…” Finch’s face turned red. “I would like to tell you something. But I don’t know how to approach it.”

John laughed, “Just say it, Finch.”

“Okay… Well… I seem to have… when I was unconscious for all that time… I…” Harold took a deep breath, “I seem to have feelings for you, John. Feelings that extend beyond the type of relationship we currently have now and I just can’t…” Harold’s rambling was cut off by the younger man jumping forward and joining their lips together.

Harold melted instantly. Every ounce of tension in his body drained out of him. Harold moved his arms up and around John’s shoulders, pulling him closer into the embrace. They kissed tenderly but insistent, years pent up between them which they both denied but now appeared with clarity for both of them.

"John," Harold said softly into their kiss.

John pulled back, his lips red and puffy, “Harold.” He whispered and placed his hand on the injured man’s cheek.

“How… How long have you felt like this?” Harold asked breathily.

“A while now, when they took you… it just brought it on, even more, made it all clear.” John says.

“Oh, John…” Harold whispered, “let’s not waste another minute.”

 Harold took John’s hand and pulled him onto the bed to lay beside him. “We’ve let too much time get by us, this is a new beginning.” Harold drew John closer. “A new beginning for everything. Let’s start now.”

John leaned in and kissed Harold lovingly then pulled away fractionally. “Yes…let’s start this very minute.” John replied as he pressed himself closer to Harold’s body.

“You’re incorrigible Mister Reese.” Harold grinned and pulled him even closer.

“I wouldn’t change a thing.” The two men finally let themselves have the one thing that neither one thought they would ever have again in their lives… Happiness.


End file.
